Because I Love You
by Aaron Ledgers
Summary: "You know how people say history repeats itself? Well, take a second to imagine redoing your life in a world where you never met the person you loved the most. I was given a second chance, but things didn't turn out the way I expected them to. In fact, it was like a nightmare. Mostly because, when I killed myself, I woke up in a world where the love I died for never even existed."
1. Chapter 1: Perfect Love

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU"

 **Beginning is loosely based off of real events.**  
 **Names have been changed to protect privacy.**

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 **NOTE** _(Please, PLEASE read this):_ **The 'excerpt' of bad fan fiction found within the following chapter was written (with much grinding of teeth) by me, and it is not meant to mock any particular author or story on this website. Any and all resemblance to real persons or stories is entirely coincidental and should be thought of as such. Also, my writing ability should not be judged by the aforementioned excerpt, as all mistakes were intentionally made by yours truly. Also (** _VERY, VERY IMPORTANT_ ) **this story is going to be very, VERY dark in early chapters.**

 **It will tug at your heart strings.**

 **You've been warned.**

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Perfect Love

" _I love you, my dear, fair Prince Andrew," Amora Lestina Hathway whispered, violet orbs filing with tears. "But... I don't know if you love me. You abandoned me for Angelica. I know she's you're sister, but..."_

 _Andrew swept the emotionally fragille, physically mighty, longhaired beauty into his arms. "You are the only one for me!" He exclaimed, crimson hues bright with love. "Angelica means nothing to_ _me_ _!"_

 _She sniffed against his strong manly shoulder. "Even though I'm halfdemon halfhuman werewolf with a vampire for a grandmother?" She asked tearrfully._

 _"Yes." He sollemnly intoned, wiping her bangs (deep raven black with blood red highlights) out of her bright blue and purple and green rainstorm-colored eyes. "I would give up my life for you. You are beautifull and strong and I will protect you the way you're dead parents never could. You have had such a tragic life. Let me be your night in shinning armor, Amora Lestina Hathway."_

 _"Oh, yes." She cried, and with a giggle she added "Not that I need protecting. I'm the ruler of the fairy world now! Be my king!"_

 _And with a smile the fairy prince kissed her because he had never met anyone as perfect as Amora before and it goes without saying that they lived happily ever after._

 _The End._

Two blank aquamarine eyes stared at the end line in total disbelief.

Then those eyes blinked, and the lanky young man they belonged to let out a snort of disgust.

"Seriously?" he grumbled, staring at his computer screen in genuine irritation. "That's it? Is this a joke?"

Anyone could have asked the same question about him, since he was lying sprawled across a bright pink comforter with rainbow unicorns plastered all over it. Beside him, an extremely pale girl with long white hair looked up from a thick book, skinny legs waving in the air. Blinking absently, she sat up and peered over his shoulder, glancing at his computer screen.

Her peculiar pink eyes skimmed over the text before she grinned and smacked his shoulder.

"Be nice, Xaphile," she sighed, flopping back down on her bed. "It's pretty cute!"

He gave her a sour look.

After picking his way through an author's note that was longer than the story's final chapter and swimming through the typical 'thank you's, ZOMGs, and review responses, the sixteen-year-old felt his temples beginning to pound.

 _How the hell do people write this swill, let alone have the balls to put it on the internet?_ he wondered, angrily opening the review box. _This isn't cute, this is... just, wrong! This isn't even a story!_ _Even the worst anime in existence has a better plot than this._

With hands that were sweaty from clutching at the plastic computer mouse for more than an hour, he typed out a review.

 _This is a bastardization of fantasy stories everywhere,_ he wrote. _I can't even begin to count the ways this story is bad._ _Your grammar is atrocious, and the dialogue isn't formatted correctly, either! Also, realistically speaking, nobody would ever act like this if they were kidnapped to a fairy land because A), kidnapping is scary, and B), kidnappers aren't tender and sweet, they're gruff and hostile! Hello, Stockholm Syndrome!_

 _And w_ _hat makes you think that sherbet eyes are pretty? Because they're not. Even worse, she has a HERITAGE to MATCH: nothing screams MARY SUE like having a vampire for a grandma and being mixed with every mythological creature under the sun! And the worst atrocity? YOU SAY THAT HE DOESN'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT ANGELICA, THE MAIN FOCUS OF THE STORY AND EVERYTHING BOTH OF THEM WERE CENTERED AROUND SAVING!_

He hovered over the 'submit' button for a long time.

A vein bulged in his forehead before he sighed.

He could feel the reprimanding gaze of the girl beside him.

With a gentle smirk and one thin eyebrow quirked above her glasses, she simply looked at him. Like always, she knew _exactly_ what he was doing, and in the end he gave into that chiding stare, reluctantly pressing the backspace key and holding it down until his entire work of angry criticism disappeared from existence.

Letter by letter.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, blowing his hair out of his eyes. "Whatever, Ella."

It took many moments of deep breathing to get his raging emotions under control, but once he could look at the review box without grinding his teeth, he began to type anew.

 _Great job sticking with this fic until the end!_ he reluctantly wrote, flipping his dark hair out of his eyes again. _You write fairly well, but all of us can improve more. For instance, you use the word 'hue' instead of 'eye', but 'hue' actually means 'color,' not 'eye!' Also, about the format of your dialogue..._

After reconstructing the content of his flame into a more neutral and supportive dose of criticism, he clicked 'submit.'

Then the page refreshed and his comment showed up, making him sigh.

How long had he been doing these pointless, endless reviews of bad stories on Wattpad?

Three years? Four?

He was too lazy to actually check the date on his profile, but he nonetheless wondered what drove him to subject himself to such awful writing and then make _nice_ about it year after year after year. He was half tempted to send another review adding a dose of negativity, but then, he felt a small hand on his back.

He relaxed under the touch, nerves instantly calming down.

Slowly turning to look at the girl beside him, he gave a frown, but she merely smiled.

"Calm down, Xaphy," Ella murmured, leaning forward and gently pressing her lips against his jawline; he sighed a little, then shifted his position slightly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Seriously, why are you so stubborn about correcting other people's bad writing? Isn't doing it for your own writing good enough?"

Like always whenever she asked such a question, he averted his eyes.

"Can't help it," he muttered, not looking at her. "Seeing something so cringe-worthy makes me want to scratch my eyes out. They didn't even _try_ to do a good job."

"Then why'd you even read it?" she asked, blinking. "If you hated it, you didn't need to finish the whole thing."

He frowned.

"The author asked me to, and I said I would," he muttered. "I don't go back on my word."

She gently set her head against his chest, nuzzling him with a smile.

"Ever the perfectionist. You're too honest."

"Be nice," he mumbled, ears turning red. "I gave a helpful review."

"Well, why not read a _real_ book?" she asked, holding up a copy of Twilight with a grin. "It's actually not that bad."

He gave her a half-lidded stare.

"Your love for things of the sparkly variety is understandable, hell, even tolerable," he muttered, looking at her bright pink room with a knowing expression, "but I won't be able to stomach reading about a perfect Mary Sue getting all lovey dovey with a sparkly but possessive vampire boy."

He shuddered at the thought.

She merely grinned and snuggled against his side before flipping her book back open.

"Suit yourself," she chirped, happily getting back into the reading process. "Just try not to barf everywhere if I gush about it to my mom later."

He scowled and gently bumped her with his leg, but she only giggled and bumped him back.

Looking back at the computer, he stared at the the last few lines of the text for a moment... then clicked the author's profile link on a whim. He was instantly assaulted by the typical " _If you're the one teen who doesn't smoke pot, copy and paste this into your profile!_ " type of junk.

Scrolling through it proved to be a forty-second process, one that led him to the fifteen other stories the author had already posted. He lingered on the review counts. The atrocious ' _Lovely_ _Fairy_ _Queen_ ' that he had just reviewed literally had two hundred THOUSAND giggling comments, and more than a million reads.

His heart instantly sank.

His own story had less than fifty reviews ranging from the constructive to the vapid to the infuriatingly vague. Sure, his story didn't have too many chapters yet, but it was better written and had a more original plot by far... right?

He scowled at the pink comforter beneath him, feeling the aggravation and dismay building up.

And yet, once again, her hand was gently set on his back... soothing his irritation.

"You're perfect the way you are, Xaphile," she murmured. "You don't need to try so hard for everyone to see that."

His eyes twitched, brows wrinkling with a somewhat unhappy expression.

"I still don't know how you manage to pick up on things like that," he sourly muttered. "How do you always know what sort of stuff I'm mulling over?"

"I can tell what you're thinking just by looking at your expression," she absently retorted, waving her legs back and forth. "Same way you do with me now and then."

His face instantly smoothed out.

"I'll have to work on that," he sighed, closing the laptop and rolling over on his side; propping his chin up on his hand, he looked at her. "Did your mom braid your hair again?"

"Yeah," she noted, smiling without looking up. "Looks terrible, doesn't it?"

"No... it never looks terrible," he murmured, gently picking up one of her soft white braids and letting it slide through his fingers. "You would look good even if you got dreadlocks."

"No way! Dreadlocks would _ruin_ my hair!" she laughed. "I'd much rather have black hair. Not only would we match, I'd look _way_ prettier than I do now."

"Black hair is boring," he murmured, letting out a long sigh. She gently set her book down on the floor and rolled over. He blinked when she flopped down on her pillow and smiled at him with only an inch between their noses.

"You say black hair is boring, but Xaphy, my papa was Cuban," she said simply, then gestured at herself. "I might have had tan skin and black hair myself if I hadn't been born with albinism."

"Really?" he asked, looking a little surprised. "I didn't know. You never talk about your dad."

"He left when I was born," Ella murmured, shrugging. "No point in thinking about someone who isn't a part of my life, right? I still wish I'd have looked like him, though... it'd have been nice to be a little less weird, you know?"

He instantly lifted a hand and stroked her left cheek, lids sliding to half mast.

He regarded her through his lashes.

"You're beautiful the way you are," he murmured softly. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Tell that to yourself."

"Touche."

"I'm serious. You look seriously hot with long hair, you know. I'm glad you grew it out."

The moment she said it, he flushed bright red and awkwardly hid his eyes, cheeks burning.

She wasn't kidding, though... at least not about him having long hair.

When he was standing upright, it hung down to his waist.

"Stop it," he groused, burying his face in her pillow. "Jeez."

"And miss out on these adorable reactions? I think not. You're too fun to tease, Xaphy. It's really cute how you get all flustered."

He grumbled a bit, then wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes.

"Good thing you're the only person who knows how to push my buttons," he muttered, squeezing her tightly and letting out a huff of air. "Geez... you're so annoying."

"But you still love me," she smugly pointed out. "Right?"

His half-hidden eyes instantly gentled and he slowly loosened his embrace so he could set his chin against the top of her head.

"With all of my heart," he admitted, planting a kiss against her silken hair.

And he really did, too, more than anything else in the world.

This warmth... this happiness... this gentle and extremely quiet banter... it was his and his alone.

Even though he didn't deserve it.

He wasn't exactly the best catch, so to have someone like Ella... a girl who was so beautiful, funny, and smart... a girl who still somehow found an antisocial, weird-looking guy like him to be attractive... well, he was nothing short of lucky, that much he knew.

He hugged her tightly.

She knew all of his flaws, yet she was still around. She was too good.

"Xaphy, stop making that face," Ella peeped, breathing a sigh against his neck. "You're beautiful, too. Inside and out."

He blinked.

"Thanks, but I know what I look like," he chuckled softly. "I'm flattered, but still..."

"I mean it, Xaphy. You're a beautiful individual. Inside and out. But truthfully, your eyes are my favorite part of you."

Xaphile winced, since his eyes were actually one of his biggest insecurities, but said nothing.

"What are you thinking about?" Ella suddenly asked. "You've got a sad, regretful look on your face."

He blinked and looked down to see large pink eyes peering at him from behind large square glasses. He shrugged a little before cuddling her, tightening his arms around her shoulders.

"About us," he mumbled. "I'm just... a lucky guy, I guess. You love everything about me, even the things that aren't nice.

"Oh? And what about you isn't nice, Mr. Cuddlebug?"

"My... eyes."

She clasped her cheeks.

Forced him to look at her.

Her eyes were beautiful, shifting from pink to amethyst and back with every movement she made.

"Your eyes are beautiful," she said softly. "They're actually very exotic, Xaphile... you could be a model if you wanted."

"Bull," he snorted. "I'm not super good looking, or beefy, or really even all that masculine."

"You're _very_ masculine," she snipped, flicking his nose. "No other guy in school has a six pack-"

"Or hair that hangs down to their butt," he interrupted, "or squinty eyes that still manage to pop out at people because the color is too damn light."

"You have long eyelashes, and your eyes aren't squinty, ya dope, they're just Asian," she corrected, then smiled. "And there's nothing wrong with them. Your eyes are like starshine, all blues and greens and flecks of hazel... they're very pretty to look at."

He stared at her.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he wondered. "God, I love you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, you big dummy!" she laughed, nudging his gut with her elbow. "I'm here because I want to be. I've known you my whole life and I plan on knowing you for the rest of it, too! Even after high school!"

"So, you think we'll still be together, even in college?"

"Of course!"

"Well, why?"

"Because I _love_ you, dummy!" she laughed, then looked at him with a surprising amount of intensity. "I love you. For better or for worse, I'm yours, Xaphile... and you're _mine_."

"I am indeed," he mumbled, gently nuzzling her hair. "How I got so lucky, I have no clue."

She was silent for a moment.

"You're depressed again today," she noted, looking up at him with tentative eyes. "I can tell by the way you're holding me. Did something happen with your dad?"

He winced.

"Kinda," he muttered, letting loose a sigh. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Like you think about anything,  
ya moron."

"You're a bitch!" he laughed, cracking up when she mockingly gasped and gently kicked his legs a bit. "Don't tease me!"

"I can," she said smugly, tilting her chin out in a goofy manner, "and I shall."

"I'm gonna smack you, Ella!" he playfully warned, chuckling loudly. "God, you're such a goof..."

She joined in with the laughter, but then, her smile faded a little.

"Xaphy, I really do love you," she told him firmly. "No matter what he says, I love you, and nothing will ever change that."

"Not even me being an idiot?"

"Even if you're an idiot," she retorted, leaning close to his face, "you're still _my_ idiot."

The moment she said it, his heart melted into a puddle of fiery warmth.

He lifted his hands and clutched her cheeks before pressing yet another kiss against her forehead.

Warmth flowed through him when she giggled.

"You're naughty," she mumbled. "Mom would freak if she caught you doing that."

"Connie knows we're dating," he sighed, rolling his eyes, "but you're right... I'll behave."

He finally sat up and stretched.

Standing up, Ella touched his chin and tilted his head back, brushing his hair aside. For a long moment, she merely looked down at him... peering right into his soul.

"You can behave... but I won't."

He blinked when she smiled brilliantly and leaned down, pressing her lips against his own; his eyes widened and his face turned red, but then... like a stick of butter, he melted.

Lifting his hands, he gently wrapped her in a hug, keeping her locked in place.

Warmth... sparks... and love... this feeling of utter adoration and yearning and joy.

It flowed through him like electricity.

The contact of her lips against his own, the feeling of her arms around him, her touch...

Her love.

He could feel it all.

And it set his insides on fire with an almost unbearable amount of passion.

Whenever he felt like this, whenever she ignited this feeling, he wanted to move mountains and change the entire world, just for her. He wanted to become somebody who could give her anything she desired.

And odd as it was, every time he felt this way, he truly believed he could.

When she finally pulled away, his face was hot and he felt short of breath.

"Will you sing for me later?" Ella breathed, smiling into his eyes. "You can bring your guitar, or maybe you can use Mom's piano."

Face flushed, he simply nodded, wanting nothing more than to give her what she wanted. Among his passion for writing, he had a few others... such as Japanese culture and anime.

But his love for music was something he'd only ever revealed to a few select people, and if he was going to be totally honest, it was really the only genuine talent that he had.

Taking a deep breath and pulling away, he patted his burning cheeks and somehow managed to pull his scattered mind back together just long enough for him to remember something.

Ella, satisfied with the expression of dazed adoration he'd given her, happily grabbed her book and sat down at her desk, scratching her ankle.

For a few moments, Xaphile tried to figure out a discreet way to word what was on his mind.

After a few seconds of careful mental planning, he looked up at her.

"Hey, speaking of music," he quietly murmured, watching as she tilted her head to signal she was listening, "if you had an opportunity to go to any one particular event, no matter how costly, what would it be? A concert? A movie? Opera? What?"

"Eh?" Ella asked, giving him a surprised glance; then she thought about it, tapping her chin. "Hm... that's a tough one. If I had to choose... corny as it sounds, I'd probably have to pick that huge theater rendition of Romeo and Juliet they'll be having this upcoming Christmas. I mean, not only does it happen on my birthday, the story is really sad and beautiful. Too bad it's so expensive... I would totally go see it."

"Why not save up and buy a ticket?" he asked, quirking a thick black brow. "Christmas is still two months away."

"No, it wouldn't work," she sighed, shrugging. "Even if I did save up enough, by the time I pulled it off they'd be sold out of tickets. The show is supposedly going to be performed by some famous acrobats and ballet stars... it's actually a really big deal. They've had fliers downtown for a few weeks already. Plus, Mom wants us to buy some good costumes for a Halloween Party she's bringing us to this month."

"Really?" he snorted, purposely trying to give off a sarcastic air to divert her weird sixth sense about what was normally going through his head. "I guess I'm going as a vampire again."

"Yaaa, I vant you to suck my blaaad," she drawled, turning and comically clawing at the air before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Really, though, you always make a super hot vampire. Plus, since you already have a bit of a Russian accent, you pull it off perfectly every year."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, flapping a hand with a secret feeling of triumph. "If you say so."

"I mean it!" she squeaked, laughing at him. "Your Russian accent is sexy as fuck, Xaphy!"

"Thank my Dad for that," he snorted. "He doesn't like speaking in English, so on the rare occasions that we talk to each other, it's always in Russian or Chinese."

"Your mother's language?" she asked, looking surprised. "Wasn't she American, though?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, nodding twice before he shot her a look. "My mother was native to America, but _her_ parents were _both_ Chinese, and she preferred to speak it. I told you a long time ago that my dad was born in Russia. I have an aunt and uncle over there that I've never met."

"I remember," she murmured softly. "You told me a long time ago that your dad stayed in America only because your Mom didn't want to leave."

"Yeah," he repeated, letting out a sigh. "He did everything for her."

After that, he trailed off, and she gave him an uncomfortable expression, but his thoughts, honestly, were lingering over what she'd said about the play.

He himself had never seen Romeo and Juliet before, or even read the story... he didn't know much about it, really.

Then again, Old English speech didn't interest him at all, so he'd never had a desire to learn about it. But for her, he would do anything, and he already had a plan.

As it was, he'd saved up enough cash from his part time job to buy her whatever she wanted, and he'd asked now instead of later just in case a situation like this presented itself.

Ella wanted to go see a play on Christmas Eve... which also doubled as her birthday. So, he was going to buy the tickets a few months early and surprise her when the date came around.

After all, she was worth it.

Author's note: Xaphile's name is pronounced Zah-feel. His nickname is pronounced Zaffy (Rhymes with taffy). Just so the readers' brains don't bleed trying to figure it out, lol


	2. Chapter 2: The Red Christmas

**The Red Christmas**

Two months later, on the dawn of Christmas Eve, Xaphile was sleeping sprawled out on his back with his mouth wide open.

Everything was quiet, peaceful, and warm, but even though it was still super early, nothing would deter Ella from her usual behavior. Instead of one of her surprise snuggle attacks or a loving kiss, he woke up to a vehement banging on his window. He groaned and sleepily sat up, barely able to keep his eyes open, but when the pounding persisted, he forced his body into action before his brain was fully awake and groggily got to his knees, pushing the curtains aside.

"Xaphy!" a muffled voice cried, accompanying the pounding with a frantic tinge. "Wake up!"

Just as he unlocked the window and slid it open, something heavy hit him directly between the eyes.

"GAH!" Xaphile yelped, jerking backwards and falling off his bed. Ella instantly gasped and stopped swinging her arm, eyes wide with horror when he landed in a heap on the floor and rolled around in pain with both hands pressed against his skull.

"Ohmigosh!" she squealed, staring at him in mortification. "Sorry!"

"That hurt," he groaned. "What the hell _was_ that?!"

"U-u-um..." Ella stammered, staring at the empty window with a blank expression, "my fist?"

"Your _fist_?" Xaphile groggily asked, finally standing up and flopping back down on his bed. "Ugh... remind me to never piss you off. Ow."

"Sorry," she mumbled, flushing bright red. "Why'd you lock your window, though?"

"It was cold last night," he lazily drawled, giving a sleepy yawn. "You know it doesn't have good insulation."

Due to the change in weather, he'd unthinkingly locked his window to seal in the heat just a tad bit better.

She didn't use the front door because the fact that she was always coming over was a secret.

Why?

Simple: he had never told his father about Ella even once over the years.

His old man didn't know he was dating anyone, nor would he ever. The moment Xaphile turned eighteen, he was either heading straight into college on a sports scholarship or getting a job and moving out.

He had his reasons, and Ella respected his decision completely, but whenever his alarm had refused to rouse him in the past, she had ignored the front door and instead climbed onto the roof resting just outside of his window.

From there, she'd always managed to sneak into his room without a problem... and since his bed was right next to it, they both had easy access in and out of the house.

Climbing into his room, Ella flopped on his mattress and gently set a small hand against his bare chest.

He cracked an eye open when she stroked his upper abdomen, then moved lower, down across his belly.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, regarding her with a curious teal eye. "I get that we're dating, but I'm practically naked, Ella."

Not that it was a big deal.

She'd accidentally seen him totally nude a few times over the years due to their window escapades, and each time both of them had freaked out, but being in his boxers or pajamas was a different story entirely.

He'd known her for so long that being seen in such an extreme state of undress didn't really bother him anymore, especially since she actually seemed to enjoy looking at his body. She had always gawked at him with a red face whenever he'd taken his shirt off in front of her.

Sure, it _was_ still just a little bit embarrassing for him, and if it were anyone else _aside_ from her he would have definitely freaked.

But Ella loved all of him.

"I'm just marveling at your secret six pack," she innocently fired back, although she flushed bright pink when he raised an eyebrow. "Really, though, it's a shame you cover your muscles up with baggy clothes, Xaphy. You're a total beefcake under all the hoodies."

He snorted, then lazily rolled over and pinned her down on his bed, long black hair falling to either side of her face.

She blinked at him when he gave a grin that didn't match the gentle expression in his eyes.

"Is that so?" he quietly purred, bringing his head down until their noses touched. "So, you like my muscles, eh?"

Her face turned crimson and she swallowed, giving him a jerky nod.

"Yeah, but... um, Xaphy?" she giggled, awkwardly shifting beneath him. "Not trying to be weird, here, but... uh... you're kinda..."

"Undressed?" he casually inquired, leaning down and playfully nipping her ear; he laughed under his breath when she squeaked like a mouse. "I guess you could consider this an extra special birthday present, then... marvel all you want, Birthday Girl."

After a moment of enduring his gentle affections, she let out a huff, cheeks flaming.

"Y-you're acting unusually bold today," she stammered. "What brought this on?"

"The fact that I love you," he whispered warmly. "Nothing more."

Her eyes softened.

"Well, as much as I'd like some serious cuddle time," Ella mumbled, wrapping her jacket-clad arms around his neck when he showered her pale throat with kisses, "w-we've gotta leave soon or we'll miss out on our last minute shopping."

"Huh?" Xaphile asked, pulling back and staring at her in confusion. "What time _is_ it?"

"Eight thirty," Ella mumbled, sitting up and pecking his cheek before she shakily began climbing back out the window. "G-get dressed. I'll be waiting by your front door."

"On it," Xaphile murmured, bolting for his closet and hastily dragging out a baggy hoodie and some blue jeans. "I wasn't paying attention to the time. Sorry."

Yawning again, he jerked his clothes on and donned his winter jacket before tearing down the stairs.

Once he was outside, he slid his hand into hers and they happily began the walk across town.

Most people didn't like going outside this early in the morning given how cold it was in Chicago during the holiday season, but he was one of the weird people who simply didn't care.

Ella, on the other hand, hated the cold... not to mention, she obviously felt extremely out of place in public because of how many people stopped to stare at her. Girls with pink eyes and white hair weren't exactly an everyday sight, after all.

When they finally made it to the shopping district, they headed in and poked around the different stores, basking in the sights, sounds, and smells.

When they moved past a jewelry shop, Ella hastily went in to buy some last-minute gifts for her friends. He waited patiently for her outside, arms folded, since he'd finished his Christmas shopping days ago.

He'd bought Ella's big surprise months beforehand, and all of the other presents were stashed under his bed.

He'd spent hours trying to wrap them up for everyone, and hell, he'd even dropped a gift in front of his father's bedroom door before heading outside that day.

Nothing big, just a nice shirt.

Today was special to him. Not because it was Christmas Eve... but because it was Ella's birthday.

That alone was why he strove so hard to do everything right.

He was so excited to reveal the big surprise that he could barely contain it. It ate at him in the best way.

After the shopping was finished, the two of them wandered towards the South Side mall, taking in the sights.

Chicago's streets had been decorated with golden Christmas lights for the holidays, and as it turned out, the mall was no different.

It was magic: the whole building was lit up with Christmas lights and gorgeous decorations. Even better, though, was the scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and chocolate-frosted pretzels looming somewhere off in the distance.

They passed each store front slowly, dazedly taking in what each display window had to offer.

The two of them even strolled past perfume vendors and scented-candle stores, which normally made Xaphile nauseous. The couple seemed to be moving in slow motion compared to the throngs of people moving hurriedly passed them.

Eventually, though, Ella turned around.

"Let's go get some chow!" she stated, beaming at him. "I'm hungry for cinnamon rolls!"

"Figures," he chuckled. "Let's go... my treat."

"Yay!" she squealed, thrusting her hand into the air. "Sweet treats!"

It was so loud that people stared at them, but he merely laughed and looked straight ahead.

The one thing he _wasn't_ was ashamed. Let them stare for all he cared. Her exuberance made him happy, and that was really the only thing that mattered.

The walk to the food court was considerable, but it wasn't long before they made it through the lines and finally sat down at a table. Xaphile had a large plate full of beef-and-cheese nachos, and Ella had a large soft pretzel loaded with frosted chocolate, which she split in half with him.

They sat in silence at first, just enjoying their food and looking at their surroundings, but a few passersby noticed the couple in the food court and immediately stopped to pull out their phones to snap a few quick photos of Ella.

Several of them started giggling and pointing fingers at her as though she were a circus animal, but Xaphile's irritation spiked when he saw her shoulders sag a bit despite the fact that there was no change in her smile.

Her appearance normally drew a lot of unwanted attention. But today was her birthday, and he'd be damned if he let anyone ruin it.

"Play along," he whispered, giving her a wink when she looked up at him in confusion. "I'm about to get on Santa's naughty list."

Setting down his nachos, Xaphile got up and shocked everyone pointing fingers by walking around Ella and gently tilting her head back.

When she was staring at him and blinking like an owl, he grinned and kissed her flat on the mouth. Then, glaring at the ones taking photos out of the corner of his eye, he pointedly lifted his middle finger. The lights on the phones slowly stopped flashing.

Slowly but surely, almost everyone cleared out in the face of his hostility, because if looks could kill, they'd have all been burnt to a crisp.

When he finally pulled away, she was looking at him with a dazed, but fairly grateful expression.

"Thanks," she mumbled, blushing fiercely. "I really do hate it when people stare at me like that. The kiss kinda blew my mind, though."

"Well, the fact that they started taking pictures was a bit too much," he sighed, giving her a reserved look. "I couldn't just sit there. But for good measure... here, pop a squat."

So saying, he sat back down and patted his lap, quirking an eyebrow.

Looking thoroughly amused, she grabbed her plate before moving around the table and sitting on him. In reality, Xaphile was absolutely enormous in comparison to Ella.

He was fairly skinny, but at the same time he was broad-shouldered and insanely tall for a teenager. He'd already broken the six-foot-five mark, and was somehow still growing.

Ella, on the other hand, was only four-foot-nine, and their size difference made doing little things like sitting on his lap a lot easier.

As they ate, Ella watched him.

"Hey," she murmured, "Xaphy..."

"Hmm?" he intoned, still chewing his food.

"Do you..." she began to ask, then hesitated slightly before finishing, "do you believe in reincarnation?"

He stopped chewing, blinking rapidly before swallowing and giving her an interested look.

"Reincarnation?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, giving him an eager nod. "Like, maybe a long time ago, someone passes on and is then reborn later? Or maybe things like other planes of existence... parallel universes and such?"

He thought about it for a minute.

"I dunno... I can't say that I do," he finally admitted, shaking his head. "I haven't seen proof of things like existing."

"Well, _I_ do," she said, turning and looking up at him with an unusual amount of conviction. "Sometimes I have dreams."

 _That_ caught him off guard, since Ella frequently complained about never remembering any of her dreams.

"Dreams?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, looking at him intensely for a moment; then she smiled a bit uncertainly. "Of another you and me... and, as bizarre as this is going to sound, I've been having dreams about a popular anime, too."

He gave her a surprised glance.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Dude, those sorts of dreams are the best! I love it when I dream about anime!"

"No," she muttered, fidgeting, "the thing is, it's not... like an anime dream. It's like... seeing an anime in real life. But Vivid, like its a movie instead of two dimensional. It's really weird, but really cool. Honestly? I've been thinking about writing it down."

He smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

"You should," he murmured, giving an approving nod. "It sounds like a great idea for a fanfiction."

Her eyes shifted in a way he wasn't familiar with for a second, but then they softened immensely and she smiled. More people stopped to stare when Ella tenderly kissed his jaw, but when she set her head on his shoulder and continued to munch on her food, he wrapped his arms around her and glared at them.

The passersby immediately continued to move along, casting curious glances back at them as they did so.

The two of them were nearly finished eating when his watch alarm went off.

"Oh, no..." Ella whined, face pulling into a saddened pout. "Is it time for us to head back already?"

"Yep, you have to be back by three to wrap those presents, and I still have stuff I need to do before tonight," Xaphile feebly replied, heart speeding up a little bit: even though he'd been having a really good time, he was more excited about what would await her later that night. "Don't worry, though, I'll be free long before evening rolls around."

Ella hung her head a little and sighed, then scarfed down the rest of her pretzel.

Then, they both hurried through the mall and headed back outside into the cold air.

The walk home was quiet, but pleasantly so.

"Thanks for taking me out today," Ella murmured, eventually breaking the silence. "Make sure you dress nice for the family dinner, kk? Mom really likes it when you wear sweaters."

When Xaphile grinned at her, she smiled in reply before clasping his hand and swinging their arms as they walked.

When they finally made it to his house, he bade her a temporary farewell and hurried inside, running up the stairs to his bedroom two at time. Darting over to his bed, he got down on all fours and dragged the presents out from under it. Breathing hard, he stared down at all the wrapped gifts with shining eyes.

"This is for everything they've done for me..." he whispered. "I'm going to make tonight perfect!"

And he would.

After all, he owed his happiness to them: Ella's place had somehow become his home away from home since her mother was one of the sweetest people he'd ever met. It wasn't hard for him to see where his angel had gotten her charms and kind streak.

After packing the presents up, he took a quick shower and threw on some nice clothes. Then, he made his way a few blocks over to Ella's house, hopes high. When he knocked on the door, Mrs. Richardson was the one who opened it.

Her cherubic face instantly lit up.

"Oh, Xaphile!" she gushed, clapping her hands. "Come on in! You're just in time for dinner!"

"Thanks, Mrs. R," he awkwardly mumbled, rubbing his hair; it was because of times like these that he was glad his wild locks hid his eyes from everyone's view. He may have looked a little shaggy as a result, but it was more of a self-comfort thing than anything else. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too!" the woman laughed, puttering off into the kitchen. "Ella's upstairs in her room like always, darling!"

"Thanks," he sighed, gently setting the Christmas presents on the table before heading upstairs; when he walked down the hall and knocked on the door, he heard Christmas music blaring from her radio. "Ella? I'm back."

"Oh! Xaphy!" she squealed, voice coming through the door a bit muffled; he smiled a bit when the sound of a thud and frantic footsteps emanated from the other side. "Hang on!"

The radio was soon turned off, and the door flew open.

There she was... dressed in a green turtleneck and a pair of bluejeans, long white hair braided into pigtails.

"Yo," he murmured, lifting a hand and looking at her choice of attire. "Heh. We match."

"Huh?" she asked, looking at the sweater she was wearing before blinking at his red turtleneck. "Oh, wow... we really do! Cute!"

"I'll say," he muttered, stepping forward and pulling her into an embrace. "Merry Christmas, Ella... and Happy Sixteenth Birthday."

"Merry Christmas," she chirped, nuzzling his chest. "Glad you're here."

"Oh, but wait... I have a couple of surprises for you," Xaphile told her, grinning when she blinked. "After dinner tonight, want to come with me to a rather famous Shakespearean play downtown?"

Her eyes immediately widened and she stared at him.

"You didn't," she whispered, mouth breaking into a disbelieving grin. "There's no way... they were sold out a month ago!"

"Happy birthday, and Merry Christmas," he chuckled, holding up three tickets. "You, me, and your mother can all go. I bought them TWO months ago."

"OH MY GOD!" Ella screeched, throwing her hands in the air and jumping around her room. "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! XAPHILE, YOU'RE THE BEST! I LOVE YOU SOOOOO MUCH!"

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and merely smiled until she bounced over and tackled him around the middle. He fell down with a muffled grunt, but then her arms were around his neck and she was kissing him.

Like always, he melted in her embrace.

They sat there for a good few minutes and made out, but then he pulled back.

"Oi," he chuckled, grinning widely at her flushed cheeks, "calm down, and let's head downstairs."

"Okay," she squeaked, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his jawline. "You're the best, Xaphy! I love you so much!"

"I love you, too," he mumbled, blushing fiercely. "Happy Birthday."

She giggled, then he helped her up and they went downstairs.

When they'd all eaten dinner, it was around five in the evening.

Mrs. Richardson had been delighted to discover that she had been invited to come with them for the play, especially when Xaphile told her it was better to spend time with family on Christmas. After that, she'd gotten all misty eyed.

Then again, he wouldn't have excluded her for the world.

She was the mother he'd never had.

On the way to the theater, hopes and dreams were high. It was packed from floor to ceiling with people, much to Xaphile's surprise.

Then again, he soon found out why.

Ella hadn't been kidding.

Two hours in, he was hunched forward and squeezing Ella's hand, eyes wide with suspense and anxiety.

And near the end, he actually teared up a bit.

The play was literally one of the most beautiful things he'd ever witnessed. It was a cross between a ballet performance and a musical... but by the time the curtain finally dropped, he was more than satisfied.

It had been an extremely sad story, but a lovely one nonetheless.

Everyone began to leave the theater after that. Xaphile and the Richardsons gathered their things up and did so as well.

Snow touched his nose when he walked out, arm in arm, with Ella by his side and her mother not too far behind.

He glanced up.

The sun was long-since down, so it was completely dark outside.

Turning slightly, he leaned down and kissed the top of Ella's head.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, smiling down at her. "Did... did you have fun?"

"Oh, Xaphy, it was amazing!" she gushed, spinning in a circle and abruptly clinging to his arm before jumping up and down. "Did you see the part where Juliet vaulted herself onto Romeo's shoulders and did a handstand while he was spinning?! That was incredible! I wish I could do that! Must be awesome having enough upper body strength to lift yourself up like that... it kinda sucks being short, you know?"

His eyes immediately softened.

Leaning down, he grabbed her around the middle and easily lifted her into the air, looking up at her startled expression with a tender and very boyish smile.

"Don't worry," he murmured, pulling her close and hugging her tightly. "If you're ever sad about being short... I'll lift you up higher than anyone else. Promise."

"You're such a dork!" Ella laughed, throwing her arms around his neck.

He laughed right back and gave her a smug look before he began stepping back and forth: the action made her groan and roll her eyes.

" _What would I do without your smart mouth?_ " he quietly sang, voice coming out in a velvety baritone; his rich singing voice hiccuped a bit due to a chuckle that resulted from the half-lidded look of sarcasm she gave him, " _drawing me in, and then kicking me out... you've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down..._ "

It was something about her... she just drew moments like these out of him naturally.

When she showed him that smile, he wanted to sing for her.

Even if it made him look like a goofy idiot.

"Really?" she demanded, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose with her own. "You're gonna sing and dance right here? With everyone watching?"

"Yeah, so be quiet before I chicken out!" he whispered, waggling his dark eyebrows before he cheerfully belted out the next few lyrics. " _My head's under water... but I'm breathing fine. You're crazy and I'm out of my mind!_ "

Just as he took a deep breath to really get into it, she lifted a finger and held it against his lips.

Then, for the first time in almost two years, she actually sang for him instead.

" _All of me... loves all of you..._ " she lightly trilled, smiling with her eyes when he started dancing with her in the snow, weaving back and forth in front of the theater with nearly thirty people who'd stopped to watch them, " _all your curves and all your edges... all your perfect imperfections._ "

Like everything else about her... that perfectly beautiful voice melted into the air with a vibrato that stopped people in their tracks all over the place. Connie looked on with a soft smile when they continued singing in harmony, spinning around like an offbeat version of the dancers they'd been watching earlier.

As they were nearing the end of the song, however, Ella lunged forward and kissed him flat on the mouth. Xaphile ended up slipping on a patch of ice since they were still spinning and landed hard on his back, but he hardly cared.

He merely wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.

Passionately.

And once again, the flare of desire and deep, rooted love engulfed the core of his being.

All around them, people were clapping and smiling... the end of a wonderful Christmas Eve.

Xaphile and Ella eventually stood up, hand in hand... and Mrs. Richardson started walking over, grinning like a fox... probably already getting ready to scold for the kiss...

But that's when it happened.

Without warning, gunfire erupted in front of the theater, not too far away from them.

People started screaming and running in every direction, trying to get away as the shots continued ringing out. Mrs. Richardson dropped to the ground with both hands on her head.

Xaphile's pulse quickened as he watched five people drop to the ground, screaming in agony.

Then, with another two pops, agony flashed into his arm and he staggered backwards.

Quivering in pain, he looked down at his shoulder, but his heart nearly stopped since there was a gaping hole in his sweater.

A hole that was gushing a river of blood.

He thought he would pass out, and his legs nearly buckled as the urge to scream hit him, but then he felt someone leaning against his stomach. When he looked down... Ella was staring up at him with a tight face that had completely drained of color.

"E-Ella?" he croaked, ignoring his deadened arm and clutching her with his good one when her knees buckled; hefting her weight, he sank to the ground and cradled her in his lap, shaking her a bit.

"Help..." she hissed, eyes filling with terrified tears. "Help me..."

He didn't know what she meant... couldn't comprehend the agony on her face... until he pulled his hand away and realized it was covered with blood.

Blood that wasn't his own.

"ELLA!" he squeaked, stomach dropping through the floor when he carefully lifted her up and looked behind her; his heart very nearly stopped when he spotted a circular pool of red on her sweater... a pool that was rapidly growing bigger before his eyes. "Oh, my God..."

"Phil..." she whimpered, shaking all over. "It hurts... it hurts... help me..."

"Ella... h-h-hang on," he cried, looking at Mrs. Richardson. "PHONE! GIVE ME YOUR CELL PHONE!"

When the woman frantically dug around in her purse, he spotted the man holding the gun.

His eyes went blank when the weapon was turned on Ella's mother.

"Put it down, bitch," the man snarled. "Before I put _you_ down."

That was it: within the span of a second, he was seeing red.

He gently set his bleeding girlfriend against the snow and bolted upright, charging towards the middle-aged man with a savage roar. Lowering his shoulder like a linebacker, he tackled the adult off his feet and smashed him against the wall.

"Xaphile!" Connie cried. "Xaphile, don't!"

"Call someone!" he roared. "Hurry! Call the cops and an ambulance!"

The madman repeatedly bashed the pistol handle against his head as he spoke, but he valiantly fought for control of the weapon.

In the end, he managed to disarm the gunner... and in a fit of unrestrained rage, he gripped the man's head with both of his hands and smashed it backwards, knocking the lunatic out.

Xaphile stepped back, breathing hard. Then, whirling around, he stumbled over to Ella and sank down in front of her, carefully rolling her over and pressing his hand against the gunshot wound in her back.

Connie jerkily dialed 911.

"Don't worry, you're gonna be fine," he told her, cradling her form. "Don't close your eyes! Stay with me!"

"It... hurts..." she wheezed, pupils utterly enormous: she was breathing rapidly and seemed to be struggling with it. "Phil... I... I can't..."

"You can, and shall," he whispered hoarsely, ignoring the blood running down his own arm. "Don't give in, Ella... please... keep your eyes open."

"Help! Please! There's been a shooting in front of the Chicago Metropolitan Theatre!" Connie suddenly squeaked, making him glance at her for a moment. "My daughter's been shot and several people are lying on the ground!"

Xaphile swallowed when she continued explaining what had just happened to the dispatch.

"I..." Ella suddenly panted, breathing growing even shallower, "I don't... think... it'll matter... even if... I do... close them..."

"What are you saying?!" he cried, feeling his heart wrenching. "Ella!"

"I... can't see... anymore... Phil..." she told him. "Everything's... going... fuzzy... and I can only see spots. I can't even... see you anymore... where are you?!"

His face screwed up and he lifted her into his grasp: he held her as tightly as he could, muscles quivering violently. He would hold on until someone came to help.

He had to.

"I'm right here, Ella..." he whispered, tears of fear and hazed pain beginning to stream down his cheeks from under his hair. "I'm right here... don't worry, everything is going to be fine..."

"Oaf!" she choked out, struggling to lift a hand and touch his cheek; a trickle of blood slid out of her mouth when her fingers grazed him. "I'm scared... so you can't cry. Be a man... you big... ox..."

His jaw immediately locked and he rubbed the tears off his face.

She was talking funny, but in this situation, who the hell wouldn't?

Hell, it was probably a direct result of the play they'd watched... oaf, ox... old timey insults.

"I won't cry," he told her, pressing his lips against her forehead. "I promise. Just, stay with me!"

"I... I want to..." she whispered, muscles slowly going slack. "But... I..."

Before she finished, her hand dropped and her pupils expanded.

Then, her irises lost their reflective sheen.

He stared at her with a blank expression... then he shook her a little.

"Ella...?" he whispered, heart going numb; he instantly shook her again. "Ella...? Ella?!"

No response.

Connie, who had been watching them, dropped the phone mid-sentence and froze.

She stared at her daughter's face with huge eyes.

Then she lunged towards them.

"Ella!" Mrs. Richardson screeched, frantically crawling through the bloody snow and clutching her daughter's arm. "Baby, say something! This isn't funny!"

No response.

When it finally hit him, his stomach tightened: he suddenly felt as though a large fist had clutched his heart. As though someone were squeezing it, trying to crush it, trying to destroy him.

Eyes widening and mouth opening as the unbearable pressure filled him, Xaphile let out a raw-throated scream that traveled up and down the streets.

"ELLA! WAKE UP! SAY SOMETHING!" he cried, roughly shaking her body. "OI! COME ON! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! SAY SOMETHING!"

She still didn't move: her face had gone completely slack.

She hadn't even closed her eyes.

"ELLA!" Mrs. Richardson wailed, smacking her arms. "WAKE UP!"

There was no response... no amount of chafing, punching, or smacking had any effect.

In that moment, it hit him.

She wasn't... here anymore.

Her body was... but she wasn't.

The second he realized it, the horrible feeling that took hold of his heart turned everything within him so dark that it nearly crushed him.

For the first time in his life, he felt as though he'd been hit so hard that he couldn't breathe... his tears had started flowing, but his expression had gone blank.

Stayed blank.

"ELLA MARIA!" Mrs. Richardson wailed, voice echoing up and down the streets. "NO! NO! MY BABY! MY BABYYYYYY!"

She sat there, wailing and screaming hysterically, jerkily rocking back and forth with Ella clasped in her shaking arms.

But nobody came to help them.

Blankly, he looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Other people were still lying on the ground, crying and wailing for help.

Three uninjured sorority college girls were trying to calm down their two wailing friends, one who had been shot in the thigh, the other in her stomach.

Two old men, one Hispanic and one white, were lying on the ground writhing in agony.

Another young mother was clutching her crying infant with one hand while trying to staunch the bleeding in her forearm.

Xaphile himself had a gaping hole in his shoulder.

And yet, they had all been abandoned by the crowd.

They'd been left behind, all alone, in that cold white world and they sat there for nearly thirty minutes until help finally arrived.

But by then... no, in the moment it had actually happened... it was too late.

Because Ella... his best friend... his true love... was gone.

Forever.


	3. Chapter 3: Moving Forward

**Moving Forward**

Everything inside the Heseroph household was unbearably quiet for once. The lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and the air was still. There were no more doors opening and closing, no more murmurings, not even the clacking of a computer keyboard.

The house had gone quiet.

As it was, a middle aged Russian man named Olag was lying on his back, arms folded behind his head, staring at his ceiling as he wondered about things.

Mostly, his thoughts consisted of his only son, Xaphile.

A lot had happened recently, right under his nose. And he knew he was still missing a vast majority of what was really going on, including several keys to his boy's puzzling behavior.

It had been three months since his kid had gotten shot in the arm.

Three months since he'd come back from some girl's funeral looking like a drowned cat.

And three months of total silence had come from the bedroom at the end of the hall.

He no longer attended school. After going back for a week, his kid had abruptly stopped showing up to classes one day without him knowing. Then, due to a month and a half of ditching, he'd finally been expelled, which had gotten them both in trouble.

Enough trouble that he, Olag Heseroph, had actually relapsed into his abusive ways and beaten his son like the old days.

During that incident, however, he had noticed something very creepy about his kid. And because of it, for the first time in his life, his temper had fizzled out.

Despite being screamed at and violently slapped around, Xaphile had merely stared off into space with eyes that looked like a doll's, glassy and emotionless.

Instead of staying furious, Olag had felt bizarrely worried since his son hadn't even twitched.

It was like Xaphile hadn't even realized he was there.

Since that freakish incident, he hadn't set foot in his kid's room.

He had merely lain down to think, which he had done nonstop for three days.

He didn't know what else to do aside from try to piece together the puzzle that was his child.

Unfortunately, that morning, the strange routine his musings had formed was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

Forced into getting out of bed prematurely, his temper spiked since he was already feeling groggy and irritable from his hangover.

Grumbling under his breath, he plodded downstairs and threw the door open.

"Vhat do you vant?" Olag demanded, giving the chubby brown-haired woman standing on his porch a hostile glare. "If you're here to preach or zell somezhing, get ze hell off my property. I ain't interested."

The woman, who had puffy eyes and extremely dark circles beneath them, blinked at him in confusion.

"Are you... Xaphile's father?" she tentatively asked, staring up at his huge physique with something akin to disbelief. "Mr. Heseroph?"

" _Da_ , zhat'd be me," the Russian man grunted, looking down at her with bloodshot eyes. "Who's asking?"

"My name is Connie Richardson," she quietly told him, holding out a hand. "I'm... Ella's mother."

He stared blankly.

"Who zhe hell is Ella?" Olag snorted, tilting his head. "I have never heard of her. Zhe one of my boy's classmates or zomething?"

The woman's eyes widened in utter shock, but after a moment she looked closer at him and frowned a little.

"Yes, I guess you could say that," Mrs. Richardson murmured, rubbing her left eye. "Is Xaphile here? I heard today from one of the other parents that he hasn't been coming to school for quite a long time... I was worried, so I wanted to make sure he was doing all right. Also, today is his seventeenth birthday, so..."

His eyes went blank for a moment when she held up a card.

He had forgotten his own kid's birthday.

The saddest part was that he didn't really feel bad about it.

"By all means, zhen," the man muttered, stepping aside and waving her in. "Zhis place is a sty, zhough."

It was an understatement.

Beer cans and bottles lay everywhere among mountains of garbage, and dirty dishes were stacked up on the coffee table. Clothes were lying all over, and the place smelled a tad sour. The woman ignored that, however, and looked around.

"How has he been doing?" she asked, looking at the giant with apprehensive eyes. "Emotionally, I mean..."

"Dunno vhat you are getting at, but if you're referring to my little brat's ztrange behavior lately, I vouldn't know anything," the man grunted, grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top. "He hasn't zet foot outside of his bedroom for anyzhing but chow time and taking zhe occasional piss. Probably has to do with the shock of getting himzelf shot or somezhing."

The woman's nose wrinkled at the foul language, but she let it go.

"Where's his room?" she asked, looking around. "I really need to speak with him..."

"You are not a social worker, _da_?" Olag ground out, making her frown at him. "I don't like social workers."

"No, I'm not a social worker," she stated politely, shaking her head. "I'm simply a mother who's worried about her daughter's friend."

The man nodded, then walked over to the staircase.

" _Malen'kiy Ublyudok! Poluchite vash osel zdes', pryamo seychas_!" he roared, voice practically shaking the house and making the woman jump. "You've got a fucking visitor!"

There was no answer.

"Xaph?" Mrs. Richardson stammered, looking a little more hesitant. "Are... you okay? It's Mrs. R..."

Once again... no answer.

After a moment, the man looked at her and shrugged before plopping down on the couch and grabbing the television remote.

"His room is at zhe top of zhe stairs, first door on zhe right," he yawned, lewdly scratching himself and making the woman's hackles rise almost immediately. "You can zhow yourself out of my house once you're done checking on zhe brat."

Looking baffled and slightly disbelieving, Connie slowly turned her head and glanced at the stairs. Then she pulled a few things out of her purse and looked at them. Her eyes began to water and she rubbed them a little, sniffing.

In her hands were two photos: one of Xaphile standing awkwardly between her and her daughter, looking like he didn't really know how to handle having two laughing women holding onto his arms.

He looked very much like a startled cat... he'd always been mellow like one, but his gawky, awkward side had always been one of his funny traits.

In the second picture beside it, the two of them had been at the Homecoming Dance.

In it, he was holding Ella at arm's length and looking down at her with eyes that conveyed volumes of love and utter adoration.

His hair had been tied back, revealing just how handsome he was... and his teal eyes seemed to be sparkling.

Back then, he'd always looked so happy by Ella's side.

"My poor babies," she mumbled, pulling a tissue out of her purse and blowing her nose. "I have to make sure he's okay... we'll get through this."

The woman made her way up the wooden steps and headed for the room Xaphile was supposedly holed up in.

"Xaphy?" she called quietly, gently knocking on the wood. "Honey, it's Mrs. Richardson... I'm coming in, okay?"

Once again, there was no answer.  
Only silence filled the air.

Ella's mother felt herself sinking into despair when she opened the door and slowly walked inside the bedroom.

It was extremely dark despite being very early in the day; only a thin shred of light peeked in through a gap in the curtains.

Upon inspection, the room was extremely clean for someone who had chosen to lock himself away. Normally, most boys would get sloppy in this type of situation, but Xaphile had acted the complete opposite.

There were no photos, posters, or even the normal messiness that came along with being a teenager, and aside from the books stacked up on the wall, there was nothing to mark this room as his own.

Actually... it felt as though the room didn't belong to anybody at all. It made her feel a bit uneasy.

Her blue eyes saddened when she saw a large lump under the thin sheets. Gleaming tendrils of Xaphile's dark hair were lying on the pillow, but he didn't move. Connie slowly looked down at the ground and clasped her hands, feeling her stomach twisting in dismay.

Xaphile was the type of boy who couldn't fully express his emotions to other people using words. She knew from experience that he was an exceedingly soft-spoken young man who wasn't good at socializing, and he was actually fairly clumsy compared to other boys _despite_ his love for athletics.

In a nutshell, he was the kind of guy who would try running a track race and do great until the end, where he would trip in a spectacular manner.

Awkward in every form of the word.

She could still remember his face on that horrible Christmas because that night, something in his irises had gone out like a busted light.

She'd had a feeling that, once he'd realized what had actually happened, he had gone somewhere else inside his head.

But apparently, he hadn't come back from wherever he'd gone.

Connie knew that he was aware of her presence, so she slowly sat down on his bed and waited until he sat up.

His muscles rippled when he weakly pushed himself upright and turned to look in her direction. Tangled strands of his long black hair fell across his face when he looked up at her, slanted teal eyes somehow refusing to reflect things.

They looked even emptier than they'd been at the funeral.

Barren and lost, the sight of them made her blood run cold, and that icy sensation only deepened when she saw the gaunt bags beneath his eyes. They were so pronounced they almost looked like bruises.

He vacantly returned her worried gaze.

"Hey," Xaphile greeted in a deadened voice; no emotion whatsoever laced his tone. "It's been a while... is there anything I can do for you?"

"You already know the answer to that, sweetheart," Connie calmly explained, slowly lifting a hand to brush a strand of his tangled hair away from his forehead. "You can't lock yourself away like this... you have to stop hiding."

He stared at her with no feeling at all.

"I'm not hiding," Xaphile hoarsely explained, turning away from her. "That's not what I'm doing at all."

"Yes, you are," Connie sighed, shaking her head in dismay before she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Darling... if what your father said to me is true, you've been hiding up here for three months... the only times you leave your room are when you shower, eat, and use the bathroom."

For a moment, he didn't move... but when he slowly lifted his head, she froze like a statue.

His eyes cut through her heart.

Even though they were so empty, she could see a level of agony within them that shook her core.

"I can't go anywhere without thinking of her," he stated simply. "We went everywhere... and because of that, every place has a memory. I can't look at anything that reminds me of her."

Her eyes hardened.

"Don't forget her," the woman snapped, clutching his arm. "That's the last thing you should be doing! Face the memories head on! Learn from them! Because if you give up, it'll be like abandoning her... and you can't ever do that. Not when you were her closest friend."

He merely looked at her.

His posture vaguely reminded her of a lost kitten.

She couldn't stand it.

Standing up, she walked over to the dresser and pulled out the first shirt she found before storming back over and handing it to him.

He simply stared at it.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Because we're going for a walk," she stated firmly, mouth quivering. "I understand why you're hurting, Xaphy... but you can't do this. We have to take the first step forward... for her sake. If she were still here, she would cry her eyes out if she could see the state her death put you in."

He flinched and closed his eyes for a moment, then reluctantly took the shirt and slid it over his lean frame.

After fluffing his hair out of the neckline, he crawled out of bed and slid his socks and shoes on.

Then, donning his jacket and a scarf, he slid his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor, waiting.

Without further prompting, she opened his bedroom door and walked downstairs with him following closely behind, but when they left the house together, he didn't even glance back at his father.

A frigid wind hit his face when he stepped out into the sunlight.

Even though it was early spring, snow was still falling heavily.

Still, they kept walking, moving through their neighborhood and past the party store where he and Ella had always bought sugar daddy lollipops with their allowances.

His eyes slowly moved across all of the places they'd played together and hung out while he walked with her mother... so many places with memories.

Falling into the river and getting themselves soaked and scolded by Connie... doing homework under the huge tree in the park... playing tag along the sidewalks, riding down the street on Ella's first bike together, sitting on the benches and giving the birds some bread crusts. Lying on the grass and counting stars at night... looking for pictures in the clouds during the day... eating ice cream together... teasing each other. Snowball fights, and building snowmen.

In every place, mountains of those beautiful memories were lying untouched by the flow of time, so close he could have almost reached out and grabbed them.

He looked at every place the memories had been made, feeling even emptier than before.

But before he could dwell on it, Connie gripped his hand and pulled him a little bit faster, heading towards the diner where he and Ella had enjoyed their first date.

The two of them stood outside of it, and she set a reassuring hand on his arm when one of the waitresses halted and stared at them.

When she turned and said something, everyone inside the building immediately turned to look out the windows.

Xaphile watched as three familiar waitresses set their trays down and ran outside, Lucinda, Amy, and Ursula... Ella's three best friends from school.

Unlike him, Ella had started getting along with everyone once they'd entered middle school. Her personality had actually landed her some really sweet and awesome friends. He'd spent more than a little time around these three girls since they'd been Ella's go-to clique for everything girly. From make-overs, to slumber parties, the four of them had practically been inseparable.

When they sprinted over, he lowered his eyes and hid his irises with his hair, tensing when all three of them tackled him at top speed and threw their arms around him.

He staggered a little, but managed to keep himself upright.

"Xaphile! Oh, Xaphy... w-where the heck have you been?!" Lucinda stammered, pushing her platinum blonde hair out of her watering eyes. "We thought... we thought you might have run away or something! You haven't been at school since... well, you know... and everyone in class was worried sick about you! People spent a few hours each day after school looking for you!"

Lucinda had a somewhat sarcastic sense of humor, but out of everyone he knew, she was probably the only person who could understand the level of his agony. Like him, she didn't really have a ton of friends, but the ones she _did_ have she loved with all her heart.

He felt a small stab of guilt, but it faded before long, just like everything else.

"How is your arm doing? Is it still hurting?" Amy tentatively asked, bouncing over and fretting over his left shoulder. "Has it healed yet?"

When he didn't respond, Connie sighed and stepped forward, setting a gentle hand on her dyed cerulean blue hair.

"He was hospitalized for nearly two weeks," Connie murmured, watching as he lifted a hand and touched the hidden injury. "He's doing better now, but I'm sure it still hurts him, so be careful."

"Okay," Amy sighed, looking up at him before her mouth trembled; tears sprang to her eyes behind her glasses and she sniffed. "It's... good to see you! We were worried!"

Xaphile merely looked at her, face completely expressionless.

Amy was a happy-go-lucky nerd who loved to draw, write, and pretty much do anything artistic. And she loved brightly colored things, to the point where she'd actually dyed her hair a bright shade of blue just so her clothes would stand out more. She was always smiling.

She wasn't smiling now.

Before he could respond, Ursula stepped forward, tossing her close-cropped auburn hair out of her steely grey eyes.

"You listen here!" she growled, stepping forward and jabbing his chest with a finger. "Ella was our friend, too, so we understand what you're going through, but-"

"Ursula," Lucinda warned, giving her a worried look. "Seriously, don't."

"No!" the redhead snapped, angrily stomping her foot. "He needs to hear it! We've known him just as long as we knew her, Lulu!"

"That doesn't warrant you yelling at him!"

Ursula fell silent and let out a sigh.

"Look... the point I'm trying to make here is that we're _your_ friends, too, Xaphile," she finally muttered, looking away to hide the fact that her eyes were watering now. "E _veryone_ misses Ella, and that's exactly why you shouldn't shut us out and disappear! When I heard that you were expelled from school as a result of extended absence, I was seriously worried! That isn't okay!"

Her words were met with a very uncomfortable silence.

Ursula was probably the closest thing to a Tsundere that he had ever seen in real life.

She never liked to admit how she was truly feeling.

"Xaph, look," Amy murmured, giving him a very tired look, "we just want you to know that if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to stop by. We're all grieving for Ellie. This isn't something you need to deal with by yourself. I wouldn't have been able to cope without Ursa and LuLu. We're here for you."

"Yeah," Lucinda finished, giving him a nod and trying to smile at him. "The manager told us to give you free meals whenever you stopped by, too... if it helps."

He almost seemed to be staring through them when his hair shifted enough for them to see.

His eyes were deadened and totally devoid of any feeling whatsoever.

"Thank you," he droned, closing them with a small exhale. "I appreciate your condolences."

"We have to get back to work," Amy murmured, hooking a strand of her bright blue hair behind her ear. "Really, though... don't hesitate to stop by, and call us if you want to talk."

They gave him worried glances when he remained silent, but eventually they turned to go, throwing a few unhappy looks over their shoulders. Once they were gone, he turned and started walking off in a seemingly aimless direction.

Connie followed him.

They walked for nearly ten minutes, but the woman was mildly surprised when he stopped in front of a fairly unremarkable tree and set his hand against the bark. He rubbed it with gentle fingers for a long moment... but when he lowered his arm, she saw what he'd been touching.

And her heart nearly broke.

His and Ella's names had been carved into the tree, and all around it were beautiful engravings... it looked more like a work of art than a tree.

After her daughter had been taken from them, a lot of people had been devastated, especially those who had been closest to her... but as strange as it felt to admit it, even to herself, Mrs. Richardson actually had a very bad feeling that Ella's passing had crushed Xaphile even more than it had crushed _her_.

Watching him attempt to speak at the funeral had only confirmed it.

She had known Xaphile long enough for him to feel like a son... she'd often thought of him as family.

Watching him that day had honestly broken her heart all over again, because she'd realized that he would never be the same again.

Nothing would ever be the same.

She would never forget the expression that had been in his eyes as they'd lowered her coffin into the ground.

He'd looked like a young man who'd been shattered completely from the inside out.

Shattered so much, that he couldn't even cry anymore.

His expression that day had spoken more powerfully than her own tears could have ever done.

"You're not alone," she stated weakly, finally stepping forward and resting her forehead against his broad back. "We all miss her... but time doesn't wait for people."

A cold wind swept through the area as she spoke, ruffling his long hair.

"That play... the one we went to see on Christmas..." he finally muttered, making her blink and look up at him. "What was it called?"

She stared at his rigid shoulders for a long moment, trying to figure out what he meant until realization struck her.

"Romeo and Juliet..." she whispered, closing her eyes in remembrance. "It was one of the best performances I've ever seen."

He was silent for a long moment.

Then he turned around and looked at her, shoulders relaxing.

For a long moment, they merely looked at each other... but then, he gave a weak smile.

"I guess I should move forward, huh?" he asked, eyes taking on a slightly more reflective sheen. "That's what everyone wants... to move forward."

Relief flooded through her when he rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart," she explained, nodding when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. "That's what Ella would want."

"Then I guess that's what I'll do," he whispered, pulling back and giving her that same little smile before shoving his hands in his pockets and slinking away. "I'll move forward... in my own way, I think I can do it."

She smiled for a moment as she watched him go, hoping he would begin the road to recovering himself... but then, strangely, she had this sudden, bizarre urge to grasp his hand and force him to turn around.

However, she ignored the feeling and decided to head home, since it was getting pretty late in the afternoon.

If only she had known.

She wouldn't have let him leave.

She would have stayed with him instead of letting him walk away,

Because, you see... that was the last time anyone ever saw him.

Foreign Glossary

* " _Malen'kiy Ublyudok! Poluchite vash osel zdes', pryamo seychas!"_

 _"Little Bastard! Get your ass down here, now!"_


	4. Chapter 4: Forest of Dreams

**Chapter Four: Forest of Dreams**

It hurt... the heat on his head, the flash of agony, the deafening bang... it really, really hurt.

But then, everything faded away.

Coldness... an odd emptiness.

It was then that he knew it was over.

He somehow drifted away from the street where his body was lying, down through darkness, slowly becoming more comfortable.

Everything had gone black... nothingness.

No color.

No light.

No sound.

Nothing but an endless void that stretched on and on.

The shadowy tendrils of death fit him like a glove... and a warm one at that: they cradled him in unseen arms and whispered loving things in voices that he couldn't understand. He didn't struggle when the feathery fingers slid over his eyelids and lips, and he may have even smiled a little.

There was no more pain... no more suppressing his tears... no more need for the numbing ice to keep the shattered pieces of his heart intact.

It was really over.

He had done it.

He had actually killed himself.

After talking with Connie, he had realized that the only way to move forward was to forcibly cut his life short. He wouldn't have recovered from Ella's death.

Ever.

So, around the same time at night that Ella had passed on... he had taken two full bottles of his father's heart medication, grabbed his dad's pistol, and made his way to the performing arts theater. And in the same spot where she had died... he had shot himself. Right in the temple.

He was dead.

The moment he realized it, a strange flash of confusion and delirium washed over him.

He began to forget everything.

Rapidly.

Memories, old and new, vanished from his consciousness, leaving behind only an exhaustion that dragged him deeper into the darkness.

 _"_ Where am I?" Xaphile sleepily wondered, staring at nothing as he was pulled down into emptiness.

He wasn't expecting an answer.

But that's exactly what he got.

" _Falling_ ," a feminine voice whispered, catching his attention. " _Into darkness._ "

"What does that mean?" he asked, fighting to remember. "Falling..."

" _You... are beginning to forget everything..._ " the voice gently explained. " _You've stopped breathing._ "

"Breathing?" Xaphile wondered, voice echoing as the shadows caressed his form.

" _Breath,_ " the voice confirmed

"What is breath?"

" _Life._ "

"What does that mean?"

The voice fell silent and the shadows deepened around him, soothing the ache that he couldn't even remember.

" _You need to be brave..._ " it suddenly soothed. " _I won't let you do this... not here, not now._ "

"Brave?" he asked, eyes slowly fluttering closed. "What... does that... mean?"

" _Bravery is something you have,_ " the voice explained. " _Something that lies deep inside every man's heart._ "

"I am brave?" Xaphile sleepily asked.

" _Yes,_ " the voice confirmed. " _More brave than anyone I have ever known._ "

"Does this mean that am I here for a purpose? Falling into darkness for a purpose...?"

" _Yes,_ " the voice repeated

"And what is that purpose?"

" _To find me... and once you do, to be brave,_ " the voice murmured. " _To live your life anew... and to love._ "

"To find... be brave... to live..." he murmured incoherently. "To... love...?"

Love.

No.

He remembered that word.

Almost immediately, his heart shattered into a million pieces and the agony came roaring back.

"Never..." he whispered, shutting the doors to his mind and huddling in the dark. "I'm not brave... I won't love anyone, ever again. Leave me alone."

He didn't want to hear anymore. The very sound of the word had brought this crushing pain back to his heart... the pain that wouldn't leave.

He shrank away from it.

Darkness closed in on him.

Nothing penetrated the silence as he finally descended further and further into his subconscious.

The void of death wasn't frightening; in fact, it was soothing after experiencing so many whirling thoughts and mental traffic jams. The memories of who he was had returned. He remembered why he had given up on being alive.

Ella.

He would rather die than endure life without her.

 _"Please...!_ " the distant voice cried, rousing his fading consciousness and making him shudder. " _Please, don't give up!_ "

"I gave up a long time ago," he whispered. "I can't keep going... I just want to sleep. Go away."

The blackness was absolute... unending yet solid, and even behind his closed eyelids he could see nothing and everything stretching before him.

Infinite possibilities and dreams awaited him in the void.

However, a tiny light abruptly broke through the darkness and cut through the shell around him like a knife: the crack instantly began to widen and more light spilled through to the blackness, dissolving it and blinding him. He instantly buried his face in his hands, trying to hide from it.

"Leave me alone!" he cried, curling into a ball and clutching his head. "Please! Go away!"

Whoever it was didn't listen.

The intruder to his eternal darkness snared his middle like a fishhook. Those strong wound around his form in a tight embrace and abruptly yanked him upward, jerking him away from the shadows he had been curled up in. His heart nearly broke a second time, since he somehow recognized the feeling of these strong arms around him. He tried to touch the figure of light, but for some reason he couldn't. He couldn't see who it was, either... but he thought he saw long hair.

Then, the glowing figure let go of him and he flew towards the light.

Back to life.

Whether it was even possible to live after a bullet to the brain, he didn't know, but everything grew so blinding that the darkness dissolved behind him.

Everything faded into a horrible ringing noise.

All that came to him after that was the feeling of his body breathing again.

For several seconds, his mind was completely disconnected from everything aside from that single sensation.

But then, a flash of confusion touched him, rousing his consciousness.

His eyes opened.

But he couldn't process anything they were seeing.

He felt disoriented, and more than a little numb.

After taking a few seconds to allow his ringing ears to adjust, he struggled to raise his head and blinked since his muscles were acting funny. He couldn't remember how to lift his hands or move his legs since, for some bizarre reason, his body didn't seem to be familiar with the memories of movement. A warm breeze caressed his back and the sound of chirping birds finally began to take shape in his ears.

He struggled to get up.

Nothing happened.

His limbs felt dead.

However, slowly but surely, he began to recognize what was in front of him.

Grass.

There was grass beneath his nose... not slush and cold concrete. He blinked at the earthy plants, wondering if he was hallucinating... but apparently he wasn't, since there really was grass resting directly beneath his nose. It was also much, much warmer outside than it had been before. He lay there for a while, vaguely wondering what was going on, until the feeling in his body slowly began to come back.

His limbs began to prickle without warning, and a pounding ache unexpectedly flashed into his head, making him wince.

That much was definitely expected.

He'd shot himself after all.

But... wait.

If he'd shot himself, how was he still... alive?

Xaphile once again attempted to wriggle his hands to test his motor control, but he couldn't deny that he was somewhat relieved to realize he could move a little now.

Once he was able to, he weakly twisted his body and used his arms to push himself upright, joints popping.

Lifting his hand, he touched his throbbing temple, then paused and pulled it away from his face, staring at it in confusion.

"What the heck?" he wondered, flexing his palm with a confused blink. "Ew... what's wrong with my nails? Gross..."

Gross indeed.

For some reason, his nails were abnormally long and looked almost like... claws of some sort.

How or why they looked the way they did was beyond his comprehension.

He also felt a little confused about his surroundings once he actually took the time to look around: he was lying in the shade of a huge tree with sunlight playing across his pale skin in the dapples made by leaves hanging overhead. When a breeze touched his legs, he glanced down and realized with a jolt of alarm that he was totally naked. Then he noticed something else... something that felt extremely wrong.

Awkwardly looking over his shoulder, he tried to spot the source of this weird feeling and froze like a statue.

For a long moment, all he could do was stare at his back in stunned disbelief.

Somehow, his body had changed, and it wasn't a normal change, either: it was like something straight out of a horror film. His hair was just as long as it had ever been, but underneath it was a silky mane that began at the nape of his neck and stretched all the way down to his rear, where a thick, black, lion-like tail was sticking out of his tailbone. His horrified eyes followed the tail's length all the way to the tip, which was flicking back and forth nearly five feet away.

It was nearly as long as his whole body in general.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, clutching the freakish appendage and twitching when he realized he could actually feel his hand on it. "What the actual FUCK?!"

Freaking out, he hastily attempted to climb to his feet, but his legs gave out halfway and instead he fell back to the ground. The grass cushioned his fall and kept him from actually hurting himself, but it still left him reeling. He waited, catching his breath, then he tried to get up again. He almost fell flat on his face since his arms buckled, but at the last second he turned his head so he wouldn't get a mouth full of dirt.

For a long moment, he merely stared off into space and moped.

It was only when he tried to turn his head that he realized something else: he couldn't do it, because something that had gotten caught in the dirt prevented him from trying. For several moments, he struggled to move his head, but his actions were met with firm resistance. Scowling, he pushed against the earth until he popped free of it; then he lifted a hand and touched his hair. He didn't feel anything abnormal until his fingers brushed against something long and sharp.

He blinked rapidly, then he lifted his other hand and touched the other side of his head.

His fingers immediately brushed against a second one.

"Seriously?!" he squeaked, eyes becoming huge. "Are there horns sticking out of my head?!"

He didn't know if that's what they were, but they sure as hell felt like horns with the bizarre way they curved.

Then his hands happened to brush against his ears.

Only, they sure as hell weren't where his ears were supposed to be... and instead of smooth skin, he felt something that resembled... soft rabbit fur?

He felt them with huge eyes, not understanding what was going on. His ears, where round tips had once been, had somehow sharpened into extremely long, elf-like points that protruded a good distance away from his head. Not only that, they were covered in fur and felt WAY more sensitive than he ever remembered them being. He tentatively felt his ears with huge eyes, then sat up and plopped his be-clawed hands between his legs.

He didn't really knowing how to comprehend what was going on with his body.

It didn't feel real, but at the same time, it somehow did.

 _Aren't I supposed to be dead?_ he wondered, brows furrowing. _What the hell is going on here?_

Still vaguely detached from the bizarre situation he'd found himself in, Xaphile decided to check and make sure that nothing else about his body had changed. He carefully and methodically examined each of his limbs, checking for signs of mutation, but for the most part, his legs were the same as they'd always been aside from some new weird claws on his toes and a strange flexibility in his feet. Then he examined his groin and abdomen: nothing about his manhood had changed, for which he thanked all the stars in the sky, but instead of being completely smooth, his body had somehow sported a lot of hair.

As in... a _lot_.

Although, calling it hair wasn't entirely accurate, since his pubic regions had actually turned into something that resembled the fur on his ears, only thicker and longer.

It stretched up his belly all the way to his chest in a thin line.

"This is messed up!" he whined, clamping his knees together and drawing them up to his chin. "What the hell is wrong with me?!"

Something cold touched his legs when he buried his chin in his knees.

For a moment, he didn't move, fearing it was some other bizarre mutation... but then, he steeled his resolve and looked down.

When he realized it was the locket Ella had given him so long ago, his heart clenched violently, eyes deadening in an instant.

With the changes in his body, he had nearly forgotten why he'd attempted suicide in the first place.

He sat there for a long while, looking at the locket... but then, he touched it and clicked the button on the side.

When it flicked open, for the first time since the funeral, the pictures resting inside were revealed.

The ice in his eyes melted a bit for a few seconds... but then, the small spark of warmth faded yet again.

Inside the locket were two photos.

The one on the right had been taken on Xaphile's sixteenth birthday by Lucy. They'd all surprised him with a birthday party, so his expression had been rather startled even though he'd been smiling awkwardly. Ella had been right there beside him, arms draped around his neck and cheek pressed against his own, grinning at the camera whilst flashing a giddy peace sign. Connie had been on his other side, hugging his free arm with a laughing grin.

The photo on the left had been taken during one of his rare daring streaks. He'd kissed her on the cheek without thinking, and her face had turned bright red.

In the photo, she'd been grinning, even though she'd looked super surprised.

Xaphile abruptly snapped the locket shut and looked away, letting it drop back against his chest.

The ache he'd been trying to escape from was back.

His tail, bizarre as it was, seemed to have grown a mind of its own and started flicking around. The strange muscle spasms annoyed the hell out of him, so he grabbed it and tried to hold it still... but for some reason, the tip of it started flicking even faster.

"Stop it!" he finally groaned, scowling at it. "Stop wriggling already! How do I make this damn thing listen?!"

He didn't know, so eventually he let his new tail go and sighed, hanging his head.

For a long moment, he simply sat there.

Then, lifting his eyes, he glanced at his surroundings with a hollow expression.

There wasn't much to see, just massive, mossy trees and low-lying ferns.

He didn't know where he was.

It was much warmer, though.

He could tell that it was daytime from the amount of light filtering through the canopy above, but he had no way of knowing what time it was.

After sitting there for a while, he decided to try getting to his feet: his limbs were still shaking, but he somehow managed to keep his balance this time.

Then, he aimlessly began to wander through the woods.

He didn't know where he was, or where he was going... nor did he care... he merely followed his own two feet, taking one step at a time.

He kept walking for at least a good hour. It was only when he found a huge tree that had fallen on its side that he stopped to sit down.

His throat was dry and his legs hurt.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes when another warm gust of wind brushed against his face, lifting his long hair away from his shoulders.

He didn't know what was going on, but the forest was kind of dreamy. It made him feel half asleep. But his mind kept reminding him that this was all wrong, that whatever he was experiencing couldn't be real. Rolling his broad shoulders, Xaphile prepared to jump down from his perch, but then he heard a sound that wasn't entirely natural from somewhere in the woods behind him.

He paused when a faint rustle made his ear twitch - which kind of freaked him out since having his ears moving in general was creepy - but when the sound of twigs breaking beneath a foot met his ears, he turned and looked over his shoulder. He jumped when a middle-aged man stepped out of the trees, wearing some sort of strange-looking outfit made of animal hide and furs.

Xaphile almost called out to him before he remembered he was nude _and_ looked super bizarre.

Swallowing, he slid off the tree trunk as quietly as he could and pressed his back against it.

 _Did he see me?_ Xaphile wondered, heart thudding in his ears as he curled up into a little ball. _The last thing I need is to get hit with an indecency charge on top of whatever happened to my body... wait... oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! My body! I can't let this guy see me! Fuck, I need to get out of here!_

Even as he thought it, he knew it was impossible.

The realization that he had turned into some freakish monster-like creature had just dawned on him for real, and it had shaken him to his core.

His hands, had they not been clutched so tightly around his legs, would have quaked like trees in a storm.

On the other side of the fallen log, he heard footsteps so soft that he might have imagined them, followed by another snapping twig.

"Come out," a gruff voice commanded, making his heart seize. "You can't hide. It's foolish to think you can at this point."

It was an unamused and undeniably firm command, one that was most likely being directed at him.

Xaphile stared straight ahead with spooked eyes, shoulders hunched. He didn't move an inch and instead concentrated on the earth beneath his body... the scent of nearby plants, the sound of birds, and the meager sunlight shining on his dark hair. He felt the chill of the man's shadow more than he noticed the way it blocked out the sunshine. When he looked up, he saw the guy standing over him with a hunting bow in his hands, arrow drawn and held in his direction.

His sandy blonde hair was glowing like burnished gold in the dim light of the forest: two sharp, steely jade green eyes were looking down at him from above a proud nose and a tangled blonde beard, which roiled and knotted around his jawline.

He looked fierce.

The stranger's expression darkened when Xaphile glanced at his weapon with huge, wary eyes.

Fearful, he carefully attempted to move his arm, but the stranger hefted the bow.

He immediately froze, muscles tense.

"You're... you're a demon!" the blonde man growled, staring straight at his ears, horns, and tail. "What are you doing near our village? Come to attack us, have you?"

"H-huh?" Xaphile squeaked, eyes immediately widening. "No way! I don't even know where I am, to be honest!"

The man blinked and frowned a little, lowering the weapon slightly.

"So, you _can_ speak," the stranger said, giving him a suspicious expression. "Tell me, what business do you have here?"

"I don't have any business," Xaphile weakly explained, shaking his head. "I don't even know how I got here. Last thing I remember, I... I was downtown. And it was snowing."

"Fancy story, but demons are uncivilized monsters," the man growled, lifting the bow again. "No more lies: tell me the truth or I'll put an end to you."

"I'm not lying," Xaphile quietly retorted, staring at him with a taut jaw. "And put that thing down before you poke my eye out!"

"Don't order me around, demon!"

"I'm not a demon! Demons don't even exist!"

"Oh?" the man snorted, looking grimly amused by that. "Then what does that make _you_?!"

"Well, until I woke up in this creepy forest, I was just a normal guy," Xaphile snapped, losing his patience. "I didn't have a tail _or_ whatever's sticking out of my head."

"Prove it," the man sneered, lifting the bow and pulling the string tighter. "If you can _prove_ what you say is the truth, _then_ we can talk."

Xaphile glared and lifted his arms, carefully unclasping the locket around his throat before holding it up and hooking his nail against the ridge on its side.

When the golden heart clicked open, the man's eye twitched... then he leaned down, examining the pictures in confusion.

"There's your proof," Xaphile coldly told him. "The guy in that picture is me. Take a closer look if you want. Just put that freaky weapon down first, and be careful with it. This locket is very, very important to me."

The blonde suspiciously took the locket and examined the photos within more closely.

Then he stiffened, eyes widening.

"Impossible," he grunted, looking at him with a stunned expression before glancing at the pictures again. "What sort of magic is this? This can't be you... its most definitely your face, but still! And that _girl_... she's..."

When he trailed off, looking stupefied, Xaphile lowered his head.

"Ella," he whispered, making the man jump and whirl to look at him in shock. "Her name was Ella... she was my best friend."

"You're acquainted with _Ella?_ " he whispered, face going white. "Really? You know her?!"

"Obviously," Xaphile muttered, tiredly closing his eyes. "Yes, I knew her... in fact, I was in love with her. We were dating."

The man immediately lowered the weapon, releasing the tension on the string.

Then, jumping off the fallen tree, he knelt down in front of Xaphile and pressed his head against the dirt.

For a long moment, he merely sat there, head lowered.

"You have my deepest apologies," he growled, lifting his head. "I didn't know you were acquainted with her! I beg your forgiveness!"

"Huh?" Xaphile asked, blinking at him in alarm. "O-oi, calm down... it's not that big of a deal..."

"It's unforgivable," he whispered, shaking his head. "To turn my weapon on a demon slayer's acquaintances isn't something that can be taken lightly!"

Xaphile immediately twitched, not believing his ears.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, looking up with a blank expression. "Demon... slayer?"

"Yes," the blonde confirmed, nodding proudly before he handed the locket back. "Lady Ella is a demon slayer as beautiful as she is powerful. In fact, just last spring she singularly slew an army of over three hundred and sixty beasts using only a bladed bow and twelve arrows."

"Are you a psycho?" Xaphile bluntly asked, nose finally wrinkling with fury. "As if some fantasy story could ever be real... don't talk about Ella like that."

He didn't really want to think about the fact that he now looked like a fantasy himself.

"You doubt her prowess?" the blonde man scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Do you... truly know her?!"

"Stop," Xaphile growled, mouth trembling with rage. "I've heard as much as I can take."

"Is she not your acquaintance?" the bowman demanded, frowning suspiciously. "Do her feats of valor not please you? Is it because you yourself are a demon?"

It was too much: his expression broke and he lunged forward, clutching the man's shirt.

"She died three months ago," Xaphile hissed, shaking him with hands that had no real strength. "Stop talking about her like that. I've known her since we were little kids, and I can tell you right now that she would have never hurt anyone, period, even if that person was a monster in every form of the word."

The blonde tensed a little until he noticed that he'd actually started crying.

It was shameful.

He was undeniably pissed, but the tears had slipped out before he could stop them.

When he let go and furiously rubbed his eyes until they were dry, the man stared blankly.

"Dead?" he asked with a rather skeptical expression. "What are you saying? Lady Ella is very much alive, I can assure you."

"No, she's not," Xaphile snapped, shooting him a glare. "She died months ago."

"That cannot be," the blonde retorted; he stood up and hefted his bow over his arm. "I saw her but a week ago with my own two eyes. She couldn't have."

Xaphile's temper finally erupted.

"Are you purposely trying to piss me off?!" he roared, face turning bright red. "It was all over the news for weeks! Ella is DEAD! I was _there_ when it happened, right next to her! She bled to death in my fucking ARMS! So, stop it! I can't take anymore!"

The man now looked _really_ confused as well as worried. .

"Are you... all right in the mind?" he carefully asked, but when Xaphile shot him a nasty look, he threw his hands up. "Bah! I tire of this! If you do not believe me, Chisago Village isn't too far away from here. If I truly must, I can and will take you there. So you can see that she is indeed very much alive."

Xaphile's shoulders sagged.

Then he sighed, giving up.

"Fine," he muttered, getting to his feet and shakily covering his groin. "Before that, though... can I... have something to wear?"

When the man glanced down and realized he was totally nude, he did a double take and frowned before hopping back over the tree.

He vanished for a few moments, then returned with a huge hiking pack.

Tossing it over his arm, he vaulted back across the fallen log and dropped it in front of Xaphile, digging around for something. After a moment, he pulled a set of brown leather trousers and a cream-colored cloth shirt out into the open before tossing them in his direction. They were the weirdest clothes he'd ever seen since they looked like generic peasant garb clean out of a King Arthur movie. Blinking at the bizarre attire, Xaphile glanced at him with confused eyes.

With great hesitation, he shrugged the shirt over his head, fluffing his long hair out of the neckline once it was on. But when he attempted to drag the pants on, they bent his tail, and he _really_ regretted it. The sensation was like being zapped by a power outlet after sticking a penny inside.

"Ow!" he squeaked, voice hitching unbearably high. "The hell is up with this weird tail?! That really hurt!"

"Eh?" the man asked, circling around him and spotting his predicament almost immediately. "Oh, I see. I guess its a good thing this sort of problem can be fixed, eh? Hold still."

He drew a hunting knife from his boot and knelt down, sliding the tip of it into the back of the strange leather pants. Xaphile blinked when he tore a slit into them, watching over his shoulder as he turned it into a hole of sorts. When the man finally moved away and smirked proudly, Xaphile looked at his weird new limb and carefully attempted to thread the twitching thing through the hole.

It was a little snug, but at the very least... it worked.

He took this brief moment of relief to fasten the locket around his neck again.

Before he could so much as say thanks, the blonde dropped some sort of hat on his head.

Pulling it off and looking at it, he was surprised to see it resembled a Russian Ushanka hat.

"Wear that to hide those horns and odd ears of yours. Also, I don't know if you can manage it, but it would be smart for you to stick that tail of yours into the shirt."

"Huh?" Xaphile asked, frowning. "Why?"

"Surely you jest?" he scoffed, leering at him suspiciously. "People don't take too kindly to demons around here, and if you look like that, you can forget about getting even relatively close to Lady Ella. Acquainted with her or not, you won't make it past the gates."

"Well, I can try," Xaphile sighed, furrowing his brows. "Can't make any promises, though... I still don't know how this thing works."

He carefully tugged on his new tail, forcibly attempting to wrap the heavy, wriggling thing around his upper torso beneath the shirt.

It worked, mostly, but he occasionally had to grip the freakish appendage to keep it from wriggling itself loose.

"What's your name, kid?" the blonde grunted, eyeing him up and down. "If demons have names, that is."

"Xaphile Heseroph," he sighed, giving him a tired look. "And like I said... I'm not a demon."

"Okay, okay, fine," the man muttered, then jerked a thumb at himself. "My name is Octavius Macintosh, but everyone calls me Gus. I'm a hunter by trade."

"Pleasure," Xaphile muttered.

"Now, since we've gotten ourselves acquainted with each other, let's go," Gus rapped out. "I want to get to the bottom of this, but I'm warning you... any funny business, anything at all, and I'll lop your head off."

Xaphile's eyes narrowed.

"I hope you understand, that while I may not be a demon or whatever the hell you think I am," he said slowly, giving the blonde a warning look, "I _don't_ take kindly to threats, and I _don't_ need a weapon to knock your ass out. Just so we're on the same page."

Gus twitched and stared at him, then blinked a few times.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that for the sake of sating my curiosity," he sighed, puzzled frown smoothing over into a look of bland pleasantness. "Come. I will take you to Lady Ella."

Xaphile didn't know what to think other than the man was crazy... but he figured he might as well go along with it. After all, he was going crazy himself since he had horns and a tail. Eyes growing lifeless, he followed the blonde huntsman into the forest on wobbly legs, wondering just what was going on.


	5. Chapter 5: Shock

**Chapter Five: Shock**

Xaphile honestly didn't know what to expect.

He had been walking through this forest with Gus for what felt like hours, but the scenery kept growing darker and darker for some bizarre reason.

As if they were going deeper into the forest instead of leaving it.

Eventually, they made their way onto a cobblestone road and he froze, bare feet halting in place.

Looking at the odd road with furrowed brows, he examined it with something close to mesmerization, since he'd never actually seen one like it before.

"What's with this street?" he asked, gripping his strange tail through his shirt to make sure it wouldn't slip free. "Where's the pavement?"

"Pavement?" Gus grunted, casting a suspicious glance over his shoulder. "I've never heard of pavement. What is it?"

"Uh, what all normal streets are made of..."

"Folly," Gus sniffed. "I've never seen any other type of road aside from dirt and cobblestone."

 _How hasn't he ever seen or even heard of pavement?_ Xaphile wondered, nervously scratching his head. _Seriously, what the hell is going on here?_

He couldn't answer either of those questions, and truth be told, he was too nervous and put-off by the man's bizarre personality to try asking.

The two of them trekked down the strange road for nearly another two hours.

And as they did, the clouds darkened into a misty gray overcast and it slowly began to drizzle.

"You should be careful," Gus suddenly warned, stopping him from walking around a sharp bend that rapidly descended towards an enormous waterfall. "The earth around here is unstable. Many a traveler has fallen prey to the river because of this area."

"Yikes," Xaphile murmured, blinking uneasily at the falls. "I'll keep that in mind."

He carefully moved around the mossy stones and let out a sigh of relief when the road turned and began descending away from the water. Xaphile looked at the scenery with dazed eyes as he walked, taking in all the birds that were flying in the air and the odd-looking squirrels chattering up in the trees. Then he came face to face with a deer after moving aside a branch that had stretched across the road.

With a yelp, he jumped backwards and fell flat on his butt, which caused the animal to bolt away.

It trotted into the undergrowth, spotted butt vanishing.

For a long moment, he merely sat there, quivering with intense shock.

Lucky for him, he hadn't landed on his tail... it probably would have hurt pretty bad.

"Did you see that?!" Xaphile cried, looking at Gus with an open mouth. "I almost kissed a deer!"

Gus blinked several times at him, then let out a howl of laughter that made him flush.

"What a strange reaction," he chuckled, wiping his eyes. "Demon or not, you're definitely a young one, that much is obvious."

"I'm not a demon," Xaphile complained, brows furrowing a little. "I told you earlier, I'm human!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Sir Lion-Tail," Gus snorted, rolling his eyes. "Let's go. Time is short."

After that particular incident, the two of them continued on through the mountainous forests, following the road downhill and observing the breathtaking landscapes.

The farther down they went, the warmer it became, and soon the light drizzling stopped.

Directly ahead, a familiar lake came into view.

"Lake Michigan!" Xaphile instantly cried, feeling utterly relieved. "Thank God! We're almost there! We made it!"

Octavius halted in his tracks and blinked a few times before looking at him in confusion.

"Lake... Michigan?" he slowly asked. "Boy, I think the names of places must have gotten scrambled inside your mind right along with everything else! That there is the Chimigan Sea!"

Xaphile frowned right back at him.

"Chimigan Sea?" he muttered. "I was born and raised in Chicago, so don't joke around about the obvious. That's definitely Lake Michigan."

Gus narrowed his eyes.

"Who... _are_ you?" he demanded, tilting his head. "I've lived in Chisago my whole life, but I've never once seen you there. Yet you claim to have been born and raised in the very village my own family has helped run since the moment of its founding! Preposterous!"

"Are we even talking about the same place?" Xaphile asked, giving him a sour look. "You keep calling this "Chisago" place a _village._ As if it's some sort of small backwoods town. The city _I'm_ talking about is called _Chicago,_ and unless you've been living under a rock your whole life, _everyone_ should know about Chicago, or at least _heard_ of it."

Gus stared blankly.

" _Chisago_ is a settlement village resting about five miles down this path," he cautiously explained, turning around and stepping over a fallen log. "It's mostly visited for its lumber trade. There aren't many shops there at present, even though the blacksmith is an outstanding metalworker."

"A _blacksmith_?" Xaphile inquired, not believing his ears. "Whoa, hold up! What do you mean by Blacksmith?!"

"As in, someone who crafts jewelry and metalwork," Gus told him, ruffling his shaggy blonde hair. "Chisago's blacksmith is famous for his craft. His swords, jewelry, and armor are of the finest make. Even the Northern Nobles come to buy from him."

"Dude," Xaphile muttered, "where am I?"

He wasn't expecting an answer, considering the question was mostly just him thinking out loud.

But the hunter responded to it anyway.

"We're in the Nimikan Woods, the furthest edge of the Southern Provinces," Gus explained. "The Countess owns most of these lands."

Xaphile blinked.

"Wait, what?" he snorted. "A countess? What kind of political society does this place have, exactly?"

Gus turned and stared at him over his shoulder.

"We are ruled by King Toma up in the Capital," the blonde explained. "Strictly speaking, there are only three other separate branches of power that govern this country. The Magic Council of the North, the Sky Queens of the East, and the Countess of the South. Each group's political sway is only a step below the king's."

Xaphile was beginning to wonder if this guy was a true nutcase.

"So... how long till we get there?" he asked, deciding to avoid bringing up anymore topics about the layout of the land. "Shouldn't be too long, right?"

"Not too long now," the hunter murmured, eyes flicking around. "We should move quickly though. This area has been riddled with demons as of late."

"I don't get all this demon talk," Xaphile grumbled, lifting a hand beneath the hat and touching his sharp horns, "but I can tell you honestly that I was born and raised as a human. I'm not a monster of any sort. Seriously."

"I was able to figure that out a long while ago," Gus said, giving him a sharp look. "Don't take me for a fool. It's obvious that you were raised among humans, the sky only knows why. Most of the demon folk don't understand human language well enough to hold a civilized conversation. You, on the other hand, seem to have a very _refined_ manner of speech."

"Huh? Dude, I'm just _talking_. There's nothing refined about it."

"Talking at all is a peculiarity in itself," Gus retorted, snorting a bit. "Demons don't usually have an intelligent bone in their bodies."

Just as Xaphile opened his mouth to ask what he meant, something huge tore out of the trees and slammed into the man's side, sending him rolling across the ground.

Then another huge thing leapt at him.

Xaphile let out a squawk of surprise and instinctively leapt off to the side, striking out at his assailant with a savage roundhouse kick.

His heel smashed whatever the hell it was clean in the nose.

When the fur-covered beast collapsed and lay unmoving on the ground, he stumbled backwards, heart pounding a mile a minute.

Breath hitching high in his throat, lips parting slightly in horror, he clutched his mouth and stared at it with a stunned expression.

 _What is that thing?!_ he silently panicked, knees shaking violently as he stared at the horrid monstrosity lying on the ground. _What the hell is that thing?! It can't be real!_

"GAAAH! FILTHY BEAST!" Gus roared, scrabbling against the dirt when whatever creature attacking him started swinging its clawed hands. "GET OFF ME!"

Xaphile's eyes widened when he realized that another creature vaguely resembling a furry boar had leapt on top of Gus and was savagely biting at his arm, which he was holding in front of his neck.

In that moment, a shocking realization struck him like a clap of thunder.

 _It can't be real_ , Xaphile silently whispered, heart palpitating, _but it is... this is really happening!_

"HELP!" Gus bellowed. "HELP ME!"

Before he could give his brain enough time to think, he was moving.

"Hang on!" Xaphile cried; with a terrified shout, he started swinging, bashing the monster tearing into the man's arm clean upside the head. "Get off him! Get off! Shit! SHIT! Just, h-hang on! I'll get it off you!"

With huge eyes, he continued to punch the beast's head: it snarled each time, but didn't loosen its grip on the man arm.

"OOOOW!" Gus finally howled, shaking his head back and forth. "DIVINES! IT HURTS! GET THIS THING OFF ME! PLEASE!"

"I'm trying!" Xaphile squeaked, tail flicking out into the open and madly snapping around. "I'm hitting it, but it won't let go!"

"LOP THE DAMN THING'S HEAD OFF!" he cried, looking at him in sheer terror. "MY SWORD! GRAB MY SWORD FROM ITS SHEATHE! PLEASE!"

Xaphile's heart thumped up his throat when a sickening crunch came from Gus's arm and he let out a blind scream of pain.

After that, he didn't stop to worry or think: straddling the monster from behind, he wrapped his muscular arms around its neck and roughly began to choke it.

His body shook when it thrashed, sending the hat he'd been given clean off his head.

When it stood back up and began jerking around, he angrily wrapped his legs around its middle and used his lower body strength to squeeze as hard as he could.

"Ah! AH!" he yelped, tightening his hold when it finally let go and attempted to buck him off. "JUST GO TO SLEEP ALREADY, DAMMIT!"

He kept up the assault using all of his strength, and as he did so, the monster's flails grew weaker and weaker. Soon, it's knees buckled and it collapsed to all fours, wheezing. He held on until it finally went down, then waited until he was sure it was fully unconscious to let go. Trembling violently, he got up and bolted over to where Gus was lying. He was clutching his arm with gritted teeth, green eyes hazy.

Kneeling in front of him, Xaphile reached for his arm but a quick slap stopped him.

"Don't touch me!" Gus snarled, mouth curling with fury. "Get back!"

Xaphile's face twitched.

"Shut up and let me see your arm," he muttered, deflecting the second slap the man sent at him; with a firm, yet gentle grip, he pulled the hunter's injured limb away from his torso and stared at it. "Oh, my God..."

It looked awful.

Gus's sleeve had been torn, and while his bones didn't appear to be broken, his forearm had been torn to shreds.

The sight made Xaphile lightheaded.

He couldn't stand the sight of blood.

Hastily glancing around for something to slow the bleeding, he spotted the strange Ushanka hat lying on the ground and snatched it.

"Just hold still," he murmured, feeling severely shaken up. "This might sting a bit, but it'll staunch the bleeding."

"Don't bother!" Gus snapped, sitting up and glaring at the ground. "I knew all along it was a mistake to attempt trusting you."

Xaphile froze.

"Are insinuating that what just happened was my fault?"

"If the shoe fits!"

Xaphile couldn't believe his ears.

"Seriously?" he growled, hackles rising. "I don't know if you noticed, but those _freaks_ attacked me, too."

The hunter lifted his steely green eyes.

"I wonder why," he sarcastically sneered, face wrinkling with disgust. "Perhaps you simply don't belong to either side. Banished, perhaps?"

That was it.

He lost his temper.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Xaphile smacked the hat against his arm, ignoring his yelp of pain.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Gus bellowed, looking up at him in fury. "How dare you?!"

Jaw clenched, Xaphile merely stood up and dusted himself off before turning to face the road, staring at it with a taut expression.

"I don't know what your problem is," he hissed, giving the man a stony expression, "but I won't sit here and let you talk down me when you don't even know who the fuck I am."

The man froze, mouth dropping open.

"Boy, mind your tongue lest I cut it out of your head!" he snarled, face turning purple with outrage. "Know your place!"

"Fine by me," Xaphile said simply, turning away from him with a casual wave. "Later."

When he started to walk down the road, however, Gus looked alarmed.

"Hey!" he called, sounding a little less angry. "Where are you going?!"

"Away from you," Xaphile called back. "I already know my place, and it doesn't include staying around condescending assholes. Sorry that you got hurt, but since you don't want me to help you, I won't. I don't have the patience to baby you, and I _really_ don't tolerate people who look down on me."

"So you're abandoning me in the middle of the forest?!" he cried in outrage. "You bastard!"

"Last time I checked," Xaphile snapped, not turning around, "your legs were in perfect walking condition. So, don't... don't..."

He trailed off and let out a sigh, feet coming to a halt since his conscience was, in fact, getting the better of him now. If he thought about it, he was doing something seriously fucked up. It didn't feel right leaving someone injured alone in the middle of nowhere, especially after being attacked by dangerous monsters. Even though he didn't like the guy, he couldn't just abandon him, especially with such a gruesome wound.

Gritting his teeth, Xaphile turned around and grumpily slinked over to where Gus was sitting, and with little fanfare, he helped the man get back on his feet. The huntsman looked extremely confused and irritated when he silently walked over to a nearby tree, taking a moment to jerk a sturdy-looking branch off one of the limbs.

"Here," he grumbled, holding it out. "Take this and let's get going."

"Tch, had a change of heart, have you?" Gus sneered, lip curling in disgust. "I'm surprised."

"If you're smart, you'll watch how you talk to me," Xaphile angrily warned him. "I've shown you nothing but respect since I met you. Show the me same respect."

"And why should I do that?" Gus snarled, face wrinkled with fury. "Prithee, tell me!"

"Because I'm the kind of guy who will walk away without another word if you piss me off," Xaphile shot back, reluctantly smothering his irritation. "I won't yell at you, I won't argue with you, I won't even _hit_ you. I'll just walk away without a word and leave you behind. I can't tolerate this kind of crap from people."

"Fine, fine," Gus sighed, rubbing his face with his uninjured arm. "Let's just get out of here."

Leaning forward, he stretched an arm out to take the stick.

But then, a bizarre sound made Xaphile's ears twitch with another involuntary muscle spasm.

His heart flew up his throat and he moved before his mind could process his body's actions.

Shoving Octavius to the ground and whirling around, he lifted his arms and braced himself only a split second before he was tackled by something much bigger than him. The force of the collision knocked him clean off his feet. With a wheeze, he landed flat on his back and was pinned by something heavy. And in the end, it was actually the stick that saved him, since whoever the hell this was started snapping at his throat with a barrage of guttural snarls.

He was only able to keep the freak off his neck by holding the wood in front of him like a bar.

"What the fuck?! Get off me!" he yelped, flailing in outrage and fright; after a moment, he tried to get a glimpse of his assailant's face. "Dude, get off!"

Then he saw it.

Whatever the hell was on top of him definitely wasn't human.

It's face was frighteningly ugly, like a mutated boar, with skin the color of rotting cabbages.

Two twisted, extremely ugly yellowed horns curved out of its piggish green skull. It's beady eyes were bright red, it's flesh was covered in horrible blisters and other spots that looked like festering pustules, and it's upturned nose was dripping. Foaming at the mouth, the creature squealed like a stuck piglet and continued snapping at him with razor sharp teeth. Xaphile's eyes widened as a surreal cloud of terror erupted within his mind.

"HOLY SHIT!" he screeched, bare feet scrabbling at the ground as he pushed against the snarling beast. "WHAT THE FUCK _IS_ THIS THING?! GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF! HELP! HELP!"

But no help was coming.

Gus was injured, and both of them were alone, so he was literally on his own.

His neck bulged with the strain of keeping the ferocious monster at bay.

It took everything he had just to keep it from sinking its teeth into his throat.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders shaking as he slowly began to force the slavering beast higher into the air. When it was far enough back, Xaphile let out an angry wheeze and sent his clawed toes clean into its groin. The monster screeched and leapt back, clutching itself before falling over on its side, but the momentary lapse allowed him just enough time to roll back to his feet. As he did so, three more equally horrific monsters came lumbering into the open.

Horns.

All of them had big, ugly horns.

His terror instantly spiked so badly that he was afraid he might have a panic attack.

Nearly on the cusp of hyperventilating, Xaphile hastily backed up until he was standing in front of Gus, hefting the tree branch with arms that shook madly.

"W-what are you doing?!" Gus cried, looking at the monsters surrounding them. "Just run already, boy! Run for it! You can make it out!"

"Shut up!" Xaphile squeaked, jerkily taking note of the monsters' positions. "Just stay behind me!"

"You don't get it! Their bites are poisonous!" Gus roared, lifting his wounded arm. "It's already too late to do anything for me! We're too far away from help, so run! Run, I say! Run away!"

"Shut up!" Xaphile jerkily wailed, giving him a terrified glance over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you behind with these freaks! Be quiet and don't distract me!"

As he spoke, the first beast charged at him.

Whipping his head around, he swung the stick with all of his strength and hit it right in the face.

Trying not to faint from the fear surging through him, Xaphile struck out at any monster that came near enough to touch, breathing heavily.

Then, one of the monsters snarled something unintelligible and grabbed the branch, dragging it clean out of his clawed hands. When he stumbled forward and was thrown off balance, the creature used the opportunity to attack.

But it was a big mistake.

Using his own off-balance momentum, he leaned forward and planted his hands on the ground, performing a flexible twisting cartwheel. The demon squealed when his foot came down in a powerful arc and bashed it in the head, right between the horns.

It continued running forward for a few seconds, then stumbled and fell, unmoving.

Once he'd righted himself, Xaphile took on a professional kickboxing stance, eyeing the other monstrosities with a shaken expression even as he bounced in place. He had never been more grateful for his martial arts lessons than he was right then. Circling around him, another demon tried to charge from the side. Dancing a few steps back, he purposely drew the creature towards him before spinning on his heel and gripping it's fat, bloated wrist.

With a flexible twist of his body, he used the creature's momentum and a specific amount of centrifugal force to spin it around him in a rapid circle. After a single revolution, it was going too fast to catch its balance, so Xaphile let go and flipped around in the opposite direction, nailing it in the throat with a flexible corkscrew-kick. Thrown backwards with its tongue lolling, the beast struck its head upon landing and lay flat on the ground, bloodshot eyes rolling back as it struggled to breathe.

When more of them came at him, he kept his distance and struck out with his feet.

Eventually, four of the creatures had been knocked out, the fifth had at the very least been incapacitated, and the last two were now circling him.

However, instead of charging forward like he'd been expecting, the one who'd been circling towards Gus lunged towards the blonde and gripped his hair.

Hefting a knife out of its boot, the beast held it against the hunter's throat.

Then it barked something unintelligible.

"Don't you dare!" Xaphile cried, eyes growing frantic. "Let him go!"

"Don't worry about me!" Octavius snapped, eyes huge as the knife dug against his skin. "I'll be fine!"

Xaphile clenched his jaw and attempted to sprint at them, but before he could make it, he was tackled from behind.

"AGH! GET OFF!" he snarled, struggling to move his pinned arms. "GET OFF ME!"

He glared at the pig creature behind Gus when it let the blonde go and shoved him aside.

The huntsman scrabbled back and watched in horror as the beast swaggered up, looking down at him with triumphant eyes. Then, crouching, the piggish monstrosity gripped his long hair and jerked his head back, taking a moment to examine his face. He looked right back up at the hideous creature, letting his fury rise to the surface of his gaze. With a fierce screech, the monster let go and lifted the blade high above its head.

When the dagger came down, Xaphile tensed and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the weapon to tear into him.

But it never happened.

There was a sudden flash of silver as someone's sword unexpectedly slammed into the monster from behind. A spray of black blood flew through the air, followed by the stench of warm copper. Xaphile smacked his head flat against the ground when the hot liquid splattered across his face. The new attacker barreled forward, jerking his sword out of the falling creature as he went. Not long after, the piggish beast on top of him let out a horrid screech and jerked violently.

The weight keeping him pinned against the ground abruptly disappeared.

Gus took that opportunity to crawl forward and grab his arm, pulling him across the dirt.

"Move, kid!" he hissed. "Get behind me! Right now!"

"I'm covered in blood," Xaphile moaned, shuddering violently. "I don't want to move... if I do, I'll faint right here and now."

The blonde cursed and dragged his limp form even further before scooting in front of him with spread arms.

More of the beasts had come charging down the road, but their cloaked savior merely whirled around like a dancer and flawlessly sliced one throat after another. One by one, they fell around him as he spun like a ballet star, silver sword gleaming as arcs of black fluid flew from it. Once they were all dead, the cloaked figure flicked the weapon free of the black coat of blood that now covered it and stalked over to them.

"You. Lift your head," a young, undeniably female voice unexpectedly rapped out. "Now."

"My Lady, thank you for saving us," Gus muttered, raising his good arm, "but this boy, he means no harm. Truly."

"SILENCE!" the young woman thundered, making him cower. "I will only say it once again. Lift... your... head!"

Xaphile knew she was addressing him. His face felt wet and sticky, though, and he knew if he wasn't careful he would faint. Slowly, he lifted his arms and pushed himself into an upright sitting position, then jerkily struggled to wipe the blood off his cheeks. Unfortunately, instead of giving him a moment of rest, the tip of the sword was thrust beneath his chin. Slowly and gently, the one who'd saved them tilted his head back so she could see him.

Her face was almost completely hidden by her hood, and it didn't help that the sunlight streaming down from above them cast her visible features in shadow.

But the moment he caught sight of her lips, and the small mole above them, his breath caught in his lungs and he tensed, face draining of color.

Pupils expanding and then contracting into thin slits, he stared at her with an expression of total and utter horror.

Eyes... clear, colorless eyes like glass, framed by familiar white lashes... the graceful curve of her small nose... those full, soft lips... thin silver brows... wisps of white hair.

 _No... it's not real..._ he silently croaked, falling backwards and looking up at her as stricken tears filled his eyes. _It can't be real... I saw it happen myself..._

Noticing his expression, she blinked and her eyes narrowed a little; tilting her head back, she jerked her hood off and glared down at him with a cocky sneer.

Under the sunlight, her pale features were illuminated in a gorgeous glow. Her snowy hair shone in an angelic manner.

He twitched and his eyes widened even further.

Before he could stop himself, he breathed her name, as if whispering a prayer.

"Ella..." he whispered, shaking all over.

Her eyes flashed with hatred, and in a fit of fury, she drew the blade off to the side and smacked him with the flat of it.

"How _dare_ you! A creature like yourself has _no right_ to address me so casually!" she snarled. "Do not soil my name with your wretched tongue, snake!"

Xaphile merely turned to look at her, still not believing she was alive.

This was his Ella.

It was her. It was really her. How it had happened, he didn't know, but she was here, right in front of him. She looked different now, _much_ different, since instead of being super long, her hair had been cut like a boy's, curling near the nape of her neck.

But it was most definitely her.

The same face... the same voice... even the same name.

Without thinking, he stood up and began to move forward in spite of the tears that had begun to blind him.

"Halt," she hissed, threateningly lifting her weapon. "Halt, I say! Move any closer and I really will kill you, demon!"

He didn't listen. One step at a time, he stepped forward, shakily stretching his hands out to her.

To touch her.

To make sure she was real, that he wasn't hallucinating, that she had really come back from the dead.

When she finally let out a war cry, swinging the sword, he numbly caught it in his hand.

Her eyes filled with shock and she gasped when he stopped the weapon, clutching the blade in such a precise manner that he didn't even cut himself open. Frantically, she struggled to jerk it out of his grasp, but when he refused to let it go, she jumped back and pulled a set of daggers out of her cloak. Gus watched in horror as Xaphile dropped the sword and continued moving forward, heading straight for her like a robot. She waited for him, dancing from foot to foot, but the second he was within her striking distance, she lashed out with the daggers.

Spinning around like a dancer, she attempted to slice his throat, but he caught her left wrist.

Then her right one.

And just like that, she was stuck.

"Unhand me!" she screeched, kicking him with all of her strength. "NOW! BEAST!"

He wasn't even aware of her fury. The feeling of these familiar wrists... the cool sensation... it was real.

 _She_ was real.

His Ella was alive, breathing... how it had happened, he didn't know, but something within him lightened so much that he felt as if he could fly. His pupils instantly expanded, and with a tearful laugh, he let go of her wrists and wrapped her around the middle. Lifting her into the air, he laughed again, spinning her around. And as he did so, his aquamarine eyes shone from the inside out.

"ELLA!" he cried, tears blotting out his vision completely. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! YOU'RE ALIVE! YOU'RE REALLY ALIVE!"

"PUT ME DOWN!" the girl screeched, flailing madly and looking down at him with fury on her face. "UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT, YOU BRUTE!"

Heedless of her command, he pulled her into a fierce hug, making her freeze.

"Never!" he instantly retorted, threading his shaking hand through her close-cropped hair; she stopped struggling when he held her tightly, beginning to break down and cry his eyes out. "I don't understand what's going on here, but you're alive. You're really alive! Please, just let me hold you!"

"Who are you?!" she spat, struggling a little. "Let go of me!"

His arms merely tightened and he buried his face in her shoulder.

But as he stood there, embracing her, someone's hand came down on the side of his neck and chopped him.

With a shocked wheeze, Xaphile instantly lost all feeling in his body and his arms went limp, releasing the flailing girl.

Stumbling back and forth, he looked at Ella with fading eyesight and stretched out a trembling hand, reaching for her.

Then his eyes rolled and he fell forward, unconscious before he hit the dirt.


	6. Chapter 6: The Merciless Maiden

**Chapter Six: The Merciless Maiden**

Gus let out a sigh as he stood above Xaphile's unconscious form, arm still extended and eyes grim.

The boy lay face-down on the dirt, glossy black hair ruffling in the wind.

"I apologize, my Lady," he eventually muttered. "Tis my fault this happened."

Ella refused to respond.

Breathing heavily, she grabbed her sword from where it had fallen, looking beyond enraged. When she stalked towards Xaphile and lifted it high, however, Gus's heart nearly stopped. With a gasp, he threw himself in the path of the sword just before the blade came down, falling to his knees and spreading his arms.

Her hand instantly stopped, but her eyes lost their reflective sheen.

The blade hovered an inch from his nose.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, staring at him with a thoroughly pissed expression. "Move, Octavius... _now_."

"My Lady," he calmly hummed, refusing to lower his gaze. "For once... show mercy."

Her blank eyes immediately widened in outrage and her wiry arm bulged, shaking violently.

"MERCY?!" she roared, making him flinch and causing birds everywhere to take flight. "TO A DEMON?! TO A BEAST?! NEVER!"

"Please, hear my reasoning!" he whispered, trembling violently. "Won't you at least lend me your ear?!"

"I'm amazed, Octavius," Ella growled, face crinkled with hate. "After what happened ten years ago, you are the _last_ person I would have expected this from!"

"Is that not more of a reason to heed my words?" he demanded, making her eye twitch. "I admit, his exterior does, in fact, resemble a demon's, but hear me out! I beg you!"

Her face wrinkled with a terrible expression of fury, but she still lowered the blade and looked at him with a dangerous glare.

"Speak," she growled, digging the point of her sword into the ground. "You have one minute to convince me not to cut this filthy creature's head off."

The man shuddered and nodded.

"He is a strange creature," he stated firmly, meeting her gaze. "This boy is very different from any of the races I've ever come across. In all my years, honestly."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Different in what way?" she growled. "There are many strange beings that walk along Earth Land, suffused with magic as it is, but none of them share any common resemblance to this creature aside from the DEMONS!"

"He saved my life, my lady... he refused to leave me behind when we were surrounded by the boar demons," Gus told her. "Even though the odds were against him, he fought against his own kind to save me."

"Preposterous," she snapped, glaring down at the unconscious youth and glaring daggers at his curved horns. "I don't believe it."

"Tis the truth!" Octavius retorted. "I would not have believed it, either, had he not done so before my very eyes. What's more... he is either unbelievably good at mimicking human emotion, or... or he can truly _feel_ things as we do."

Ella stiffened.

With a whoosh, she jerked the sword out of the dirt and held it against the unconscious boy's neck, glaring dangerously into the blonde man's eyes.

"Demons do not feel," she stated coldly. "Have you forgotten this?"

"No," Gus calmly replied. "That is why I was caught off guard by him."

Her eyes narrowed, and she looked down at Xaphile's black hair for a moment. Ramming her sword into the dirt and squatting down, she gripped his thin horns and turned his head. For a long moment, examined his features with genuine distrust. Gus rubbed his eyes: he was beginning to feel light-headed from the poison spreading throughout his arm and body. When he swayed, she looked up at his mauled arm and started digging around in her cloak.

Moments later, she pulled out a small glass vial and tossed it to him.

"Drink that," she muttered, returning to staring at Xaphile's face with suspicious eyes. "It'll stop the poison from killing you."

"Thank you," Gus breathed, uncorking the glass vial and downing the contents. "I owe you my life."

"This... creature," she snorted, rolling back on her heels. "What did he want with me? Do you know?"

"Eh?" Gus asked, blinking at her in dismay. "Well... he said a great many things that confused me. First being that you and he had been acquaintances for many years, and also, as strange as it was to hear it, that you had died several months ago."

"What? Humans don't associate with monsters, much less befriend them. That much should be obvious, even to a demon. And it should be common knowledge that I'm very much alive. I'd never let myself die, for any reason."

Gus fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"That is solely why I was so intrigued," he eventually murmured. "I cannot help but feel that he truly believed that you had died, My Lady. The expression I saw didn't just touch his face, it also touched his eyes. He genuinely reminded me of old Marty Crawford for a few seconds."

"I don't know this beast," Ella growled, gripping Xaphile's dark hair and lifting his head up. "To think, he put his filthy hands on me..."

The man winced when she glared at his horns with an expression of sick disgust.

But then, to his surprise, she actually dropped him again and stood up. Walking over to her sword, she jerked it out of the dirt once again and carefully wiped it clean of the blood coating it. Then she slid the blade back into the sheath strapped to her waist. Gus watched as she dragged her hood up and turned, planting a hand on her hip.

"Well?" she snapped, tapping her foot. "Grab it. I've decided not to kill it. Are you happy?"

Gus's face settled into a relieved countenance and he immediately pressed his head against the ground.

"Ella, thank you," he sighed. "Thank you for sparing him."

"Who said anything about sparing him?" she cackled, making him pause. "You're taking this beast back to the village as a prisoner. He'll make a good _display_ , at the very least. Come, Octavius, and bring your new _pet_. The evening hour approaches, and I have yet to eat my supper."

"What were you doing out here?" Gus asked, frowning. "I wasn't due back for a long while yet."

She froze mid-step when he asked, but didn't turn around.

"A scout saw your predicament and came running to the village to warn us about the danger you were in," she haughtily told him, shoulders stiff. "I'm simply relieved that I chose to grab a remedial antidote from Amelia's shop before running here."

"You came to save me?" Gus asked, eyebrows raising. "My lady, we've been over this! You can't keep putting yourself in danger!"

"But it's my job as Countess to _protect_ those I _govern_ ," she snapped, storming off. "I grow weary of this! Let us be off!"

Gus blinked a few times, then sighed and stood up, grabbing his hiking pack before hefting Xaphile over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

"Sorry, lad," he grunted, shaking his head. "Looks like you're in quite a fix, now."

He then carried Xaphile's unconscious form down the road after the silver-haired maiden.

As they walked, distant walls began to take shape behind the trees... and eventually, they made it to a drawbridge.

Ella took her hood off when someone standing on one of the parapets looked down at them.

"Lower the bridge!" a distant voice called. "Lady Ella has returned!"

She folded her arms and waited while the bridge was lowered; once the path had been set in place, she swept across the wooden bridge and entered the town. When Gus cautiously followed her, many adults who saw the demon lying limply across his shoulders turned pale and ushered their children indoors.

Ella's lips twisted into a smirk as her eyes flicked around.

"This should be fun for a while, at least," she murmured darkly, letting out a genuine chuckle. "The people of Chisago hate demons even more than I."

"What are you going to do to him?" Gus carefully inquired, watching as a group of angry-looking men wearing chain-mail armor began to approach. "My Lady..."

"I won't be doing anything," Ella sweetly informed him, giving an evil smile. "I'll let the villagers have some fun once it wakes up, then we'll lock it in one of the cages we keep in the marketplace."

Octavius turned pale.

"What?" he breathed. "My lady, you can't be serious."

"You should know me well enough to know those words are no farce," she snipped. "In fact, since _you're_ the one who decided to ask me to have mercy, I'm leaving the responsibility of taking care of that _thing_ to _you_."

Just as she finished speaking, the captain of the Guard walked up to them.

"What is the meaning of this, Lady Ella?" he demanded, glaring at Xaphile's long black hair and bizarre tail. "For what reason have you brought a demon into our sanctioned walls? I do not understand."

"Don't worry, Angelo, this one's harmless," she said sweetly, gesturing at Xaphile with a devilish smirk. "I decided to bring it back so the villagers could release a bit of anger. Plus, this creature is actually rather exotic compared to the other monsters I've seen. At the very least, he'd make a decent live display."

The man's eyebrows rose into the helm he was wearing, but then he nodded, seeming to think about the idea.

"I'm guessing you're doing this to bolster everyone's spirits?" the captain inquired, giving her a look. "Many of the villagers still hold grudges, Ella. They might kill the creature."

"Not my problem," she flippantly noted, shrugging. "If it lives, we'll toss it in a cage. If it doesn't, we'll burn the body. Either way, one less demon to worry about."

"All right," Captain Angelo sighed, shaking his head. "One condition, though... we tie the damn thing up tight before letting the villagers do as they wish."

"I'll leave that to you," she chirped, giving him a respectful salute. "I have to go make sure the other soldiers have finished their training now. Be sure to inform the village that the responsibility of caring for the creature falls to Octavius. He seems like the type who can handle it the best. Oh, and about Amelia's request for the Wizard's guild... have we received any word?"

"Yes," Angelo confirmed, nodding once. "I received word through the Lacrima just this morning that two wizards from their guild have accepted the job fetch the supplies she's asked for."

"Good," Ella quipped, smirking at him. "At the very least, Amelia won't have to go without supplies now."

With that, she gave a little wave and walked off, not looking back.

"Octavius," the captain grunted, turning his gaze on Gus. "Set the monster down so I can bind it."

The blonde winced and did as he was told, averting his eyes when the Captain pulled a rope off his belt and roughly jerked the unconscious boy's arms behind him. He tied his hands... then his ankles... then wound more ropes around his whole torso and tied them tightly. The other guards chuckled and nudged each other when he finally finished.

"Vex," Angelo stated firmly, glancing at one of the guards, who immediately stood at attention. "Start informing the citizens that tonight they have an opportunity to return their anguish and fury to one of the monsters making their lives so difficult. Tell them to meet us in the central plaza in one hour. And make sure to broadcast the message through the Lacrimas, too."

"Sir," the guard grunted, giving a salute before jogging off; as he did so, he began shouting the news loudly, drawing the attention of every person he passed. "TO ALL THE TOWNSFOLK OF CHISAGO VILLAGE! MEET IN THE CENTRAL PLAZA IN THE CENTER OF TOWN WITHIN ONE HOUR!"

"Eriker, Damien," the captain barked, addressing the other two. "Take the beast to the plaza. Let's not disappoint Ella or the townsfolk... they deserve a brief reprieve of their burdens."

With nods of approval, they hefted Xaphile's weight and roughly carried him away.

Gus watched them go with uneasy eyes.

"Angelo," he muttered, shaking his head, "this isn't right."

"Right or wrong, it matters not at this point. Ella has spoken, and her word is final, so you may leave until it's time for our unexpected _festivities_ ," Angelo grunted, giving him a slow smirk. "Good job, though. Lady Ella rarely gives anyone praise."

When Angelo walked away, Octavius watched him go with a bad feeling in his gut.

Xaphile's unconscious form was carried for a while before he was dropped roughly on the ground. It was primarily because of this jarring motion that his consciousness was roused. Letting out a strangled wheeze, his eyes fluttered open and he groggily blinked at the dirt in front of his nose. He attempted to move his body, but for some reason it wouldn't budge. He could barely hear past the ringing in his ears... but he thought he heard voices, although what they were saying was impossible to decipher.

Wriggling a little, he managed to turn his head slightly and looked at everything with clouded vision.

Multiple figures were standing above and around him, and as he watched, more of them approached by the second.

He was surrounded by strange-looking men and women, but the weirdest part was that he couldn't move any of his limbs, or even talk. Hell, he could barely take in enough air to breathe properly, let alone speak. It was also around then that he realized something had been tied around his hands and ankles, mostly because whatever it was had scraped his skin.

His vision flickered for a moment, and he almost passed out again... but then, he was doused in cold water and dragged upright by his hair.

"This is a demon! A creature unworthy of our sympathy! You have all been given permission by Lady Ella herself to do with it whatever you wish for one hour," the one gripping his hair bellowed cheerfully. "All of the hatred that has been forced onto your families... all of your hardships... you have permission to return it to its caster!"

Xaphile blearily blinked and dizzily shook his head when a deafening cheer rose up.

He hardly understood what was going on, let alone what these people were talking about.

"Where... am I?" he weakly asked, voice coming out in a hoarse croak; the man gripping him stiffened. "What's... going on?"

"Shut up!" the one holding his hair barked, smacking the back of his head hard enough to make his ears ring again. "Filthy demon... stay _silent!"_

"Are you saying that we can even hurt it?!" a villager called, sounding surprised. "We can do whatever we desire?!"

"Anything you want," the man who'd struck him laughed loudly. "Just try not to kill it! Lady Ella wants to turn this beast into a live display later."

Total silence followed, but then a loud cheer rose through the crowd and they began to advance on Xaphile. When the man holding his hair let go and brutally kicked him forward, he face-planted on the ground since he couldn't lift his hands.

Panic shot through his heart when the people converged on him.

 _I can't move..._ he silently whimpered, staring at the dirt with terror-stricken eyes. _They're gonna... what do I do?!_

Nothing.

He could do nothing but brace himself, so that's what he did. Tensing his muscles and hunching his shoulders, he squeezed his eyes shut just as the first villager drew his foot back and kicked him in the side.

The blow nearly crushed his ribs.

Xaphile tried to let out a scream, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic squeak; someone else kicked him on the other side so hard that he actually went rolling across the ground.

He tried to move, but his body had been tied too tightly.

"Let's see how much you can take, demon!" his assailant laughed. "Not so tough, are you?!"

He felt another kick hit him in the stomach before someone else's foot slammed straight into the small of his back. Each time a foot made contact with him, he couldn't stop the strangled yelps that somehow clawed their way out of his mouth. Men and women alike... even several teens and children... they were kicking him.

Yelling at him.

Spitting on him.

Then someone grabbed his hair and lifted him upright before repeatedly punching him in the face. He turned his head to the side to avoid the harsh blows, but they just kept coming... they wouldn't stop. More abuse came... more pain... so much, in fact, that it eventually stopped hurting period. He lay limply as he was kicked around.

Unfortunately, they were very dissatisfied with him for falling silent and simply taking it.

Eventually, one of the female villagers grabbed his horns and dragged his face close to her own.

"So, _beast_ ," she cooed in a sardonic baby voice, grinning savagely when he stared at her with no reflective sheen in his eyes. "How does it feel? Does it hurt?"

Xaphile merely stared into those hateful hazel irises, not able to comprehend her anger.

"You're a monster," he shakily whispered, not tearing his gaze away from hers. "You're _all_ monsters. I never did anything to you, so why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this?!"

The woman's face went blank with shock before her nose crinkled in fury.

 _"_ SHUT UP!" she roared, hauling back and slapping Xaphile so hard in the face that he fell back and smacked his head on the ground; his stomach clenched when a man, presumably her husband, hauled off and kicked him with a snarl. "FILTHY _BEAST!_ "

"Stop it..." he wheezed, fighting to free his arms when more people took turns punting him around. "Please..."

"Shut up!" a man snarled, kicking him in the mouth. "Filth!"

Struggling to move, Xaphile managed to sit up by flexing his stomach muscles, but he could barely breathe with the pressure of the ropes on his body. Still, he somehow slid his legs underneath him and crouched forward, attempting to get to his feet.

"Please..." he croaked, lifting his watering eyes, "don't do this any -"

His words were cut off when someone's foot slammed into his forehead, knocking him backwards with so much force that his knees left the ground and he flipped. When his cheek connected with the dirt, his neck jarred painfully and the breath was knocked clean out of his lungs. Only a split second later, his legs followed, slamming down behind him.

All he could do was lie flat on his stomach and cough violently.

He had never been hit so hard before, not even by his own father... he was literally seeing stars.

He could barely open his eyes.

"Wow!" a young girl who couldn't have been older than twelve laughed, walking over with a huge grin. "Daddy! Kick it again! Kick the demon again!"

"With pleasure, Maria," the man who'd bashed him off his feet laughed. "Here you go!"

Then he ran forward and kicked Xaphile so hard that he went rolling across the dirt.

He couldn't even breathe after that, let alone plead for it to stop.

Not like they would stop even if he did plead.

It continued for what felt like hours.

The sun had long-since slipped below the horizon when the guards finally stepped in.

By that time, he had started bleeding violently from his mouth and nose, and his whole body felt so brutalized that he was sure some bones had been broken.

"All right, everyone," a man wearing plated armor sighed, waving everyone back. "Your ' _hour_ ' of fun is up. It's time to clear out."

"Give Ella our thanks!" a woman happily called. "This was a rare gift!"

"Yeah, yeah," the guard chuckled, gripping Xaphile's long hair and dragging him down the street with the help of two others. "We'll tell her."

He didn't know where they were taking him, but he hoped it wouldn't hurt, wherever it was.

He couldn't feel any part of his body anymore.

He had practically gone numb.

 _Ella..._ he whispered, weakly struggling to move. _Ella... am I in hell?_

That had to be it.

This was hell.

He didn't even feel it when they finally cut his bonds... nor did he feel it when they roughly threw him into a huge cage. He gave the strange-looking guards a weak look when they slammed the barred door shut and locked it.

Then they smirked at him, taking note of his battered appearance.

"If you live through the night," the man on the right chuckled, grey eyes hooded, "you can expect some equally lovely treatment from now on."

Xaphile closed his eyes and let his head thump weakly against the ground, listening to their laughter as they walked away.

He lay there, limp and unmoving, for what felt like an eternity.

That is... until a condescending question split the air.

"Does it hurt...?" a young girl asked, speaking in such a mocking tone that he shivered. "My, my, look at all that blood."

He knew that voice... but the tone was one he had never heard before.

Cruel.

Spiteful.

This girl was almost exactly like the one he'd lost... but in the end, he'd been wrong.

The Ella he'd found wasn't _his_ Ella, no matter how alike they looked.

He really _was_ in hell.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked at her: eyes like pink gems, gleaming silver hair, and the face he had come to love... but it was marred with hatred.

An expression he'd never seen.

"I..." he croaked, giving a slow blink. "I'll be fine... don't worry."

Her smirk faded a little and a shred of irritation bled through her expression.

"Don't be a fool... as if I would worry for you. I was right there watching all of the villagers for a little while," she sneered, squatting down in front of the cage and staring at him as if he were some sort of bug. "Still... your attitude towards me is very puzzling to say the least."

"I agree," he noted, staring at her with tired eyes. " _I_ don't even get why I'm trying to be nice at this point."

She scowled.

"Do you understand the situation you're in right now?" she hissed. "Many would rather die than be where you are."

He merely looked at her.

"Yeah," he murmured, gazing at her with unblinking blue-green eyes. "You do have a point."

For a long moment, all she could do was return the unfathomable stare he was giving her, brows furrowing with barely concealed frustration. The double meaning in his words had thrown her off.

"Why do you think you know me?" she finally demanded, making him wince. "I've never met you before in my life. Trust me, if I had come across you, I'd have killed you."

Ella waited for his response, not lowering her piercing stare from his own.

"I was wrong," he rasped, feeling brittle from the inside out. "I made a mistake."

"Don't avoid the question," she stated fiercely, eyes hardening instantaneously. "Speak the truth."

"The truth?" Xaphile whispered, aching all over in more ways than one. "The truth is that you look and sound _exactly_ like a girl I used to know, so I let my guard down for a minute. I stupidly let myself become deluded into thinking you were her. I was wrong. You're not _my_ Ella."

" _Your_ Ella?" she sneered, narrowing her eyes. "What is _your_ Ella like, then? I'm _very_ curious."

Xaphile slowly opened his eyes and stared at the floor of the cage, long-lashed eyes glimmering with a softer expression.

"My Ella... was a wonderful person who loved and embraced life," he quietly explained. "She was the sort of girl who could walk into a room and talk to someone for only ten minutes, but they'd remember her forever. She was funny, outgoing, energetic... my best friend."

"I've heard more than enough," the girl on the other end of the bars grunted, lips curling in disgust. "Obviously I'm not the Ella that you know."

"You're right, you aren't," Xaphile weakly agreed, "but even though you're not the same person, you can't truly be the kind of girl who finds joy in other people's suffering, can you?"

"I thought we just made ourselves clear," she laughed. "I'm _not_ this girl of yours! I _enjoyed_ watching you writhe in agony!"

He merely looked at her spiteful smile.

Couldn't comprehend the expression.

"Why are you so cruel?" he hoarsely whispered. "How can you say things like that?"

"Be grateful you're able to hear anything," she sneered. "You're the first demon I've ever left alive, and presumably the last, too. Enjoy your stay with us."

"What have I done to deserve this?" he croaked. "I don't understand."

She gave him a disdainful look.

"Simple: you exist," she growled, leering into his eyes. "That is the only reason I need to hurt you. Nobody will care if you die in this cage tonight. Least of all me."

His heart skipped a beat.

Eyes going blank, he stared at her in shock.

"What do you mean?" he shakily demanded, pulse acting up. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Ella cruelly laughed, looking him dead in the eyes, "that to me, your life is totally worthless. In fact, I wholeheartedly believe that this world would be a better place without you. So do me a favor and die, why don't you. It'll save me the trouble."

In that moment, his already-busted heart fractured all over again. The words were like knives that tore into his soul with the force of a semi-truck. Even though this obviously wasn't the girl he'd grown up with... he couldn't stand it.

Those words were beyond cruel.

They killed him from the inside out.

Tears of rage filled his eyes and he slowly lifted his head.

"Don't say anything like that ever again," he choked out, sharp teeth clenched. "Ever. Not with her voice... _or_ her face."

Something in her expression grew even darker as she looked at the catlike teal irises that were now piercing into her own.

Fury... and pain.

Both of them, well-acted.

But not well enough to convince her.

"Fine," she said sweetly, smiling at him. "Not like it matters. You have a big day ahead of you, after all."

"Big day?" he demanded. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see in the morning," she sneered. "Rest while you can."

When she stood up and sashayed away from him, her departure left behind an unbearably cold sensation that settled over the hole where his heart had once been, freezing it over completely. For the rest of the night, all he could do was wonder if he deserved this for killing himself. If this freakish situation was supposed to be his hell... well, it was working.

He was suffering right then more than he ever had throughout his whole life.


	7. Chapter 7: Lash

**Chapter Seven: Lash**

Xaphile didn't remember falling asleep.

Hell, with him being in so much pain and coughing up blood, he hadn't thought he would have been _able_ to fall asleep. But that's what had apparently happened, since he was roused by the feeling of something gentle and cool being draped across his forehead. For a moment, he basked in the sensation, wondering vaguely what it was.

But then, a gentle hand pressed against his ribs.

Agony momentarily blinded his senses.

Letting out a wheeze, he violently flinched and immediately jerked away from the one touching him.

"Stop," he begged in a raspy tone, curling up into a little ball. "Please... stop... no more..."

There was silence for a long moment.

Then the hand returned... large... rough, but strangely soothing.

He shivered when it threaded through his hair, even going as far as brushing against his horns.

"I'm sorry," a gruff voice muttered. "I shouldn't have brought you here."

Xaphile's eyes cracked open a little and he stared at the one kneeling inside the cage with him.

Blonde hair... jade green eyes...

"Gus?" he croaked, eyes opening a little wider. "What are you... doing?"

"Shhh!" Octavius hissed, eyes flicking back and forth. "If I'm caught, I'll be in more trouble than you are."

Xaphile immediately snapped his mouth shut.

Instead of bothering to say anything more, he chose to stare at the bars of the cage, barely able to feel the hand on his middle region. After a moment, Gus carefully peeled his shirt back and winced, averting his eyes.

Xaphile's side and stomach had been bruised so badly it genuinely looked almost black.

The man swallowed and gently pressed the wet cloth against his abdomen, face wrinkling when he tensed. Xaphile's breath whistled through his clenched teeth when the agonizing pain returned, blotting out his vision with dark spots.

"It hurts..." he hissed, weakly turning his head as tears began to sting his eyes. "Owwwww..."

He tried to keep his voice down, but it was extremely difficult, especially since the man seemed to be putting a specific amount of pressure on his body. Thankfully, Gus eventually stopped... and Xaphile took a breath, breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Your ribs don't seem to be broken," the hunter murmured, gently pulling the shirt back down and wiping his forehead, "but the bruises are awful, and I'm not yet certain if you have internal bleeding. I'm not a healer, after all."

"I've had worse," Xaphile croaked, swallowing hard. "This is nothing. I can handle this kind of pain."

Gus stared at him in shock.

"What kind of strange boy are you?" he demanded. "Tell me, why is it that you came looking for Lady Ella?"

Xaphile shuddered violently and a chill ran down his spine.

"That girl... isn't Ella," he croaked, covering his face with one hand. "That isn't my Ella... she's... not the woman I loved."

"You're a demon," Gus growled, keeping his voice low. "Even if you were raised among humans, your kind can never understand what it means to love. You can mimic it, but that is all. You're a smart lad, though, and that is precisely why I don't understand why you agreed to come here."

"If someone you cared for died," Xaphile slowly ground out, "and then you were told that they were somehow still alive, who _wouldn't_ go looking for proof?"

Gus thought about that with a frown.

"Be that as it may, what you've just gotten yourself into is a whole lot worse than death," he finally sighed. "Lady Ella is ruthless towards demons. She finds joy in killing them. That is what a demon slayer is: a killer."

"But I'm not a demon!" he spat, finally losing his temper. "I'm a regular human being, for Christ's sake! I feel just as much as the next guy! Sure, I look a little weird now, but I wasn't always like this! My body changed somehow!"

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"That does it," Gus grunted, tilting his head with narrowed eyes. "I've held back on saying this since I wasn't entirely sure about you, but I've decided to break the ice. Kid, you're totally _deluded_. You're _not_ a _human_. Accept it."

"You don't know me," Xaphile growled, giving him a heated glare. "We literally just met."

"Troublesome," Gus muttered, putting the washcloth into a small pouch at his side. "Very troublesome indeed."

When the sound of a door opening nearby met his ears, the man jumped and whirled around.

Listening for a moment, his face turned white and he immediately lunged out of the cage.

"Shite," he whispered. "I must go!"

Xaphile watched as he quietly closed the gate and locked it, hurrying away without another word.

It was a good thing he did, too, because only a split second after he vanished around the corner of a nearby house, a group of men wearing the same strange armor from the previous day stalked up to the cage and hefted a strange-looking chain collar. He wanted to move, to crawl away from them when the man closest to the gate unlocked it, but he couldn't.

Forget about moving, after the beating he'd been given, he was lucky to be alive.

"Come on, little demon," the man sneered, making him squeeze his eyes shut. "Come out and play some more. Lady Ella is waiting."

When he didn't move, the man's smile turned into a dangerous glare. Glancing down at Xaphile's leg, he smirked before gripping his ankle with both hands and violently jerking him out into the open. He couldn't even flail. The action sent stars shooting from his ribs all the way into his skull, and he almost blacked out because of it.

He stared at the early morning sky with glassy eyes when the guard finally let him go, breathing rapidly and shallowly with his arms stretched out above him. His brief rest ended when they jerked him up just enough to put a metal collar around his throat.

"Come on, demon," the guard cackled, talking to him as he would a dog. "Let's go. On your feet."

He tried. He really did. But unfortunately, his limbs were no longer responding normally: every part of him felt like it was made of metal. His arms and legs were so heavy that he couldn't even make the muscles twitch.

The guards didn't take kindly to his lack of action... or perhaps, they thought his limpness was a pathetic form of resistance. For whatever reason, the man forcing him to move began to drag him along the ground by the throat, using the chain attached to the collar he was wearing. He struggled to breathe as he was pulled along, but when his ribs slid over a rock, more stars shot into his skull, and this time, he really _did_ pass out.

Not for long, though.

He was roused back to consciousness by the agonizing sensation of his arms being tied to a post resting high above him.

His body sagged, held up only by the ropes around his wrists.

Head lolling forward, he tried to make sense of everything past the rushing in his ears... but he could somehow tell that there were tons of people around him. Sometime during the blackout, his shirt had been removed. He was aware of that only because he could feel his hair against his skin.

He dangled there limply for a while, trying to piece together what was going on, but then... the sun slid over the buildings.

As he was bathed in the first touches of sunlight, her voice once again filled his ears.

"Oh, those bruises look beautiful!" Ella giggled, making him lift his head a little. "Very beautiful indeed!"

She was walking up a set of stairs towards the post, holding some sort of weapon in her hands

Her hair gleamed like snow in the light, and her long lashes framed her eyes gorgeously, but instead of the gentleness he'd loved, there was a cruel grin upon her face.

 _She's evil_ , he suddenly realized. _She's evil in wherever this is. This girl isn't the real Ella... she's not Ella Marie_!

He watched as she approached.

Gliding over to him, she slipped a small hand out of her cloak and ran it against his chin, smirking devilishly when he leaned away from her touch.

"Hmmm... yes, purple and black do look amazing on you, little demon," she drawled, "but what say the villagers? Do you all think those are his colors?"

"NO!" a woman called. "NOT AT ALL! PAINT HIM RED!"

"Oh, my," Ella trilled, covering her mouth with an innocent set of blinks; then, letting go of his chin, she slowly walked behind him, pale fingers trailing his injuries. "Well, you heard the woman... I always give my people what they WANT!"

On the last word, something lashed against the small of his back, making him choke on his own spleen.

He arched as the sting of it flashed through his whole body, wheezing even as he did so.

Then the pain faded, and he sagged again, breathing heavily.

"Stop," he croaked, panting rapidly as he stared at the wood beneath his trembling feet. "Please."

"Aw..." Ella crooned, looking at the crowd that had gathered. "It would seem it didn't make him red. Should I keep going till we see some?"

"YES!" a man cheered, throwing his fist into the air. "MAKE HIM BLEED!"

Xaphile lifted his eyes, staring at the gathered people with an expression of desperation.

"RED! RED! RED!" a woman began to chant. "RED! RED! RED!"

Soon after, people began to repeat it all over the place, making him give up.

His head weakly dropped, and his tail, the aggravating thing that had refused to stop moving even after last night's abuse, finally thumped against the ground. It lay still and unmoving, just like the rest of him. He didn't want to be here, but if worst came to worst, perhaps this time he could die for real. Perhaps he could see the real Ella.

If he'd died once by his own hand... he could definitely do it again by the hand of another.

Even if the hand doing this to him belonged to a girl with the same face as his dead girlfriend.

"Time to give them some red!" Ella called, giggling cheerfully as she drew back and viciously lashed him again. "Here we go! Much better!"

The agony made him arch involuntarily, but this time it didn't stop. It kept coming, one after the other. His claws dug into the wood beneath his feet as he was repeatedly hit with something that ripped into his flesh, but as time went on, the agony began to break into a numb sensation.

Eventually, he didn't even arch his back any longer... just took the blows with glazed eyes.

The world around him grew muffled in his ears, and he hoped it would end soon. But then, the lash hit the back of his neck by accident and the golden locket he was still wearing snapped off. It landed on the ground in what looked to him like slow motion before hitting at his feet and bursting open. Smiling faces from a time of bliss that had ended looked up at him.

The wood beneath him was puddled with blood he hadn't even noticed.

Before the photographs inside could get damaged by it, he put his blood-soaked foot over it, forcing the locket to snap shut.

The lashes kept coming, but instead of feeling pain or heat, all that came to him was the pressure and an odd chill.

By the time Ella pulled away, breathing hard, the sun was high in the sky and it looked to be nearly noon.

"WHO HERE IS SATISFIED?!" she bellowed, lifting her weapon and grinning when the villagers clapped and whistled. "YOU WANTED TO SEE THE BEAST IN RED, SO I GAVE IT TO YOU!"

Xaphile's glazed eyes lifted to look at all the people in front of him... all the sneering, condescending faces... the hatred, the evil smiles...

But then he saw a face that stood out from the rest. A face that was staring right at him, but not looking angry or spiteful.

He blinked, spots drifting over his eyes as he wondered whether or not he was imagining it.

If he wasn't mistaken, a teenage girl with long brown hair was staring at him with a look of horror on her face.

Xaphile winced and turned away.

He didn't blame her for looking like that. Anyone in their right mind would have been horrified.

The spots dancing across his vision became thicker, but he couldn't let himself pass out.

Not with the locket under his foot.

If he lost it now, he had no doubt it would be gone forever, so he struggled to keep himself aware, for the sake of the one thing he still had left to hold dear.

"Ella," he wheezed, closing his eyes in pain. "I... can't..."

His stream of consciousness began to drop away into oblivion the harder he fought against the spots.

But then, someone's hand was suddenly in his blood-soaked hair, dragging his head back: he barely registered the face that had once belonged to his beloved glaring into his eyes.

"Don't call my name, filth," she hissed, speaking so quietly that he barely caught it past the rushing in his ears. "Don't defile my mother's love with your nasty mouth."

For a long moment, he stared into the eyes glaring into his own with no sense of comprehension.

Hatred... burning hatred... this Ella, whoever she was, genuinely hated him with every fiber of her being.

And that one realization made his sanity snap.

Shakily, he gave her a smile.

A smile that conveyed nothing but the anguish within his heart.

"Three months," he whispered, grinning at her weakly. "For three months, I suffered in the darkest pits of hell because of how much I loved you."

"Silence," she commanded. "Now."

Eyes faraway, he ignored her.

"All I could do was dream of the day I would die and be set free of the agony you caused me. I daydreamed about my death for hours and hours," he croaked, mouth trembling, "but then I realized just how long it would have taken."

"Hold your tongue," she hissed, face twisting with an expression of disgust. "Do as I say, beast."

"I killed myself on my seventeenth birthday," Xaphile weakly whispered, struggling to keep the smile on his face despite the fact that his expression was breaking apart, "and this is my real hell."

"I said to hold your damnable tongue!" the girl snarled, clutching his throat in a warning. "NOW!"

Xaphile lifted his eyes to the sky, face twisting with pure grief. Not long after, tears of defeat started running down his cheeks like waterfalls.

"Just kill me," he whispered. "I died once over you. I can do it again. Just end this."

Ella jerked back and her eyes went wide at the sight of his tears, but when she glanced down at the blood pooling on the wooden boards, she tensed. She gazed at the puddle in confusion, then looked back up at his twisted expression, tilting her head in a wary manner.

"Demons don't feel emotion even when they're in physical pain," she muttered, backing off a step. "So, how are you... shedding tears?"

He lowered his eyes and met her scrutinizing gaze, feeling his exhaustion rising to the surface. When he didn't respond, Ella let out a huff of air and scowled profusely, then pulled a dagger out of her belt and began sawing the ropes on his wrists. The moment they snapped, he fell forward and landed heavily in the puddle of his own blood, eyes barely open.

His entire body was shaking like a leaf.

"Looks like it's over for the day!" Ella called, smiling at the villagers. "If we do more, it'll die. Then there won't be any fun left! Let's return to our normal schedules!"

For several moments, people clapped, but then everyone began to walk off, heading in different directions and gossiping about the brutal display. Xaphile merely lay on his stomach, foot curled up so tightly that all of the strength he had left was going into controlling that one appendage. He had to protect the locket the real Ella had given him. If he didn't, he feared he would lose all shreds of his sanity. He would literally have nothing left if she took it from him.

When Ella brutally kicked him onto his side, Xaphile winced and almost passed out.

But he didn't, so he took a deep breath and steadied his mind.

"Kill me," he whispered, not looking at her; tears continued to drip across his nose and onto the wood. "Just... stop this. I can't take anymore."

"Oh, but you can," Ella snorted, narrowing her eyes when he turned his head and looked at her through blurry vision. "Why do you pretend to cry...? You don't feel."

Xaphile blinked.

"You don't know me, then," he croaked. "Even now, I still feel for you, Ella."

She stiffened, feeling genuinely startled.

"Excuse me?" she snorted, looking at him with an askance expression. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means: I feel for you," he explained, not breaking eye contact. "Despite what you've done to me, I will always wish you happiness. So, go ahead and laugh at me if that's what makes you happy. Laugh at my pain. In the end, you're somehow still alive, and that's something I thought I'd never see again."

She blinked.

"I don't understand you," she snorted, frowning at him, "you keep talking to me as though I'm this girl you mentioned."

"You're definitely not her," he agreed, smiling a bit. "You _couldn't_ be her. It's not logically possible. And yet, impossible as it is, here you are. Right here."

She stared at him, but instead of looking angry and hateful, she looked genuinely disturbed.

"Answer me something," Ella quietly commanded, squatting down and staring at him with furrowed brows. "Someone told me you thought I was dead... but why? There has never even been a rumor of my death floating around, has there? What exactly _happened_ to your Ella?"

Agony enveloped his core.

"My Ella?" he questioned, giving her a blank look. "She died."

Her face scrunched, and she glared at him in fury, obviously not believing her ears.

"Lies," she snapped, gripping his hair. "I grow weary of these tales you keep spewing. Tell me the truth!"

"I just did. My Ella died. That _is_ the truth," he shot back. "Now, if you're done, end this. I'm tired, and I want to be with the girl I loved. The _real_ one. Set me free of this nightmare already."

Her eye twitched.

There was a long pause as he lay there, teal eyes blank and unblinking while he waited for her to kill him... to plunge one of her knives into his heart or throat. Unfortunately, she merely stood up and backed off, making a gesture to the guards standing at attention over by some buildings.

"I'm not going to kill you if that's what you really want," she icily told him, "but if you continue to sprout these ridiculous lies, I will personally cut your tongue out of your head."

He merely stared at her.

Feeling tired, his head thumped against the wood.

"Up, demon," the approaching guard grunted, kneeling down and grabbing the chain. "Let's go."

Xaphile, once again, had no energy so he braced himself for what he knew was about to happen. Sure enough, when he didn't move, the guard started dragging him down the stairs by the throat. The sensation of his body hitting the stairs on the way down made his whole lower torso jolt, and as a result the locket went flying out of his reach.

It landed right in front of _her_.

He watched with fading eyes as she glanced down, but whatever else he could see faded away as the increasingly familiar agony began to pull his mind into darkness.


	8. Chapter 8: Gentle Hands

**Chapter Eight: Gentle Hands**

Blood.

A trail of it had been left on the ground leading to the cage after they'd dragged him away and tossed him back into it. He lay limply, breathing hard and fast, muscles in so much pain that he could no longer feel them.

Staring out at nothing, he merely waited.

With his injuries, he had no doubt whatsoever that he would eventually die.

But instead of being left alone like he'd been expecting, Gus opened the cage and once again started tending to his wounds.

"Fool," he growled, angrily scrubbing his back and ignoring how the poor boy tensed. "You were a fool... but I was an even bigger one to unthinkingly lead a naive creature like yourself right to Ella."

Xaphile turned his head, eyes completely blank.

"My locket," he whispered. "I... lost it... when... she..."

The man's scrubbing slowed, and he looked at him with furrowed brows.

"That strange necklace of yours?" he asked, returning to what he'd been doing. "I'll see if I can find it after I'm done here."

Xaphile groaned and pressed his forehead against the ground as the pain from scrubbing started getting to him. It went on for nearly fifteen minutes before Gus forced him to sit up and started wrapping bandages around his upper torso.

His hands were oddly gentle... almost soothing, in a way.

As he was wrapped up, Xaphile's head lolled forward and came to a rest on Octavius's shoulder, which made him stiffen.

"Thank you," he croaked, shivering violently when the hunter's hands stilled. "Thank you for not hurting me with the rest of them."

Gus's arm twitched beneath his head.

Then his hands continued wrapping, albeit quite a bit more slowly.

"Don't thank me," he gruffly muttered, sounding thoroughly upset. "It's my fault you're in this horrible situation."

Xaphile didn't respond, merely kept his eyes closed with his head resting on his shoulder.

The pain in his body was excruciating, so he was relieved when Gus carefully helped him lie back down. He was still shirtless, so the metal floor of the cage was cold, but that was more of a relief than a discomfort. He lay curled on his side, arms resting limply in front of him, and stared off into space.

He was so burnt out that he couldn't do anything else.

Gus observed his face for a moment, then let out a sigh and slid out of the cage.

"I'll return with some food, later," he promised, closing it tightly and locking it up before heading off to who knows where. "Just rest easy until I do."

Xaphile didn't have the mindset to care about something as mundane as food.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off.

Let the pain melt into oblivion.

Sleep touched him with gentle fingers, but for only a moment, it would seem, since no sooner than he closed his eyes was he woken up again. Then again, it was actually getting dark outside when he opened his eyes, so he must have been out cold.

When he turned his head and looked at the one who'd roused him, he saw Gus setting a plate of food inside the cage. It was strange looking, that much was very true, but his stomach growled the moment he smelled it. Gus watched as he weakly stretched out a hand, but sighed when his whole body jerked and went limp.

"I can't move," Xaphile croaked, closing his eyes. "Sorry."

Without a word, Gus shifted the plate until it was right in front of his face.

"Eat it when you can," he muttered. "I have to go now."

When he stood up and walked off with a stiff back, Xaphile tentatively attempted to move his arm and carefully inched his hand over to where the food had been placed. With shaking fingers, he grabbed the first chunk of whatever it was he'd been given.

Shivering, he popped it into his mouth.

The taste was beyond revolting, but it was better than nothing, so he reluctantly ate all of it.

Then he fell back asleep, ignoring the foul taste in his mouth.

The next day, Octavius roused him with another plate of food and a bowl of water.

Once in the morning, and once at night.

Eating and sleeping began to dominate the time he spent in the cage.

Days began to pass, and as they did, his wounds slowly healed.

Although, it was beyond agonizing.

His rest was broken only by a single child who repeatedly came to poke at him with a twig at the end of each day. During the times when he showed up, Xaphile merely looked at him for a bit, not really understanding what he wanted.

The little boy never spoke, never asked questions... all he did was poke-poke-poke away.

Xaphile usually ended up curling into a ball out of his reach, but even after he did so, the child would just sit there, looking at him with pleading eyes. Not like it mattered... he was too busy wondering when Ella would be coming back to torture him again to care.

But for some strange reason, more torture simply didn't happen.

He didn't see head or tail of the guards, or the ruthless albino girl, for days on end.

After two weeks of being in the cage had come and gone, Xaphile woke up one morning feeling better than usual.

He lay still, breathing deeply and evenly.

Even though he was hurting a lot less, his dark hair was filthy, and he was desperately craving a shower. Shirtless, he looked at his surroundings with dazed eyes, truly taking note of everything for the first time.

It was strange.

After he'd first arrived, people had been buzzing like bees around him.

Now, there was just an odd silence.

His brows furrowed the more he looked.

Upon inspection, the wall surrounding the town looked to him like something from the American Colonial days. It resembled the wall of a fort, since it was made of thick tree trunks and sturdy logs. Xaphile shakily touched his bandaged chest, realizing that the cage he'd been locked in was tucked into the corner of a strange-looking market place.

People were walking to and fro, but not a single one really paid any attention to him.

 _Where am I?_ he wondered, not really comprehending anything that was going on. _This place looks like something straight out of the Victorian Ages._

It was true: all of the villagers were wearing strange, oddly medieval clothing... as in, high collar dresses, old-fashioned tailcoats, and hats with feathers in the top. Many of the women he could see were wearing bonnets and flashy dresses.

Several scruffy little children were kicking around a ball of some sort, and a few boys who appeared to be around his own age were chatting near the edge of the marketplace, looking seriously bored. All of the buildings were made of grey bricks, and the cobblestone streets resembled something he'd seen in an old British movie.

It really was like something from the middle ages.

It boggled his mind beyond measure.

And bizarrely enough... even though things looked extremely primitive, there were people with hair of every shade and color imaginable walking around, too. And they were wearing clothing styles that didn't resemble anything he'd ever seen back home.

It left him feeling extraordinarily alarmed.

"Where the hell am I?" he whispered, shivering violently for a moment. "This place isn't anywhere near Chicago. It can't be."

Xaphile observed everything for a long time, but eventually he began to feel tired again.

His muscles shook and his body sagged as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

He was just about to lie down and attempt to fall back asleep when something came flying in his direction. He glanced at it when it rolled beside the cage and came to a halt just out of arm's reach. It was the ball all of the children had been kicking around.

Xaphile carefully shifted his eyes and spotted the small group of kids standing a good distance away. All of them looked afraid and upset, but a thickset blonde boy merely looked angry.

"Great job, Kirby!" he snapped, turning around and shoving a much smaller child to the ground. "Now we can't play with the ball anymore! This is all your fault!"

Xaphile was actually a little surprised to realize that the one he'd shoved was the little brown-haired boy who'd been poking him now and then.

"We're not supposed to go near the demon," a little girl whined, looking back and forth with nervous eyes. "We can't get the ball back! We'll get in trouble!"

"This stinks," a second girl groused, grumpily folding her arms. "Let's go play something else."

When they irritably turned to go, the little boy who'd been shoved got up and tried to follow... but he was pushed to the ground again by the blonde.

"Not you, Kirby," he sneered, then turned and glanced at Xaphile with a smirk. "You go play with the demon. I'm sure it would love to have you as a snack."

When the group of children laughed and walked away, leaving the little brown haired boy behind, Xaphile's eyebrow twitched involuntarily.

 _Do they think I'm a cannibal or something?_ he wondered, feeling a little nauseous.

He didn't know, nor did he want to: their actions towards him a few weeks ago had given him all the information he'd needed to get the message. The child sat on the ground for a long moment, sniffing and looking like he was about to cry.

Xaphile's face fell, since he kinda felt sorry for the kid.

He let out a disheveled sigh and slowly attempted to sit up again, wincing when flashes of pain seared through his back, but instead of faltering he merely grit his teeth and dealt with it. Moving onto all fours, he carefully crawled over to the edge of the cage and set his shoulder against it, breathing a little heavily.

His prison was roughly five feet wide and four feet tall, but because of how thick the bars were, he could barely manage to slide his hand through any of the gaps.

Even so, he still tried to.

Wriggling his hand into the gap closest to the toy, he leaned against the bars and floundered for the ball, face twisting a little as some of the scabs on his back reopened.

"Come on," he whispered, pressing his lips together in focus as he scratched the ball a tad closer using his grotesquely long nails. "Almost... got it..."

Sweat beaded on his brow and he stretched a little farther, but the pain was worth it, since he finally managed to get a grip on it. Flipping it into his hand, he looked at the kid, who was still sitting where he'd fallen and rubbing his eyes.

Sniffling.

Tail twitching with a combination of pain and anxiety, Xaphile struggled to make use of his wrist movements, giving himself a moment to practice. Once he was absolutely sure it would work right, he snapped his hand forward and let go of the ball.

His aim was a little off, but it did roll past the child, who stopped crying long enough to stare at it. For a moment, he blinked rapidly in obvious surprise... then he turned around and looked straight at the cage, just as Xaphile got his hand unstuck. Flexing his fingers, he shakily returned to his original spot and lay down, ignoring the pain in his back.

He had just closed his eyes when something gently poked his backside.

His face twitched, but he casually ignored it.

Unfortunately, the poke came again, and again, and again.

After about fifteen persistent pokes, he gave up and opened his eyes.

"Stop it already," he rasped, voice coming out shockingly hoarse. "Don't touch me."

The child's eyes lit up with shock and he abruptly dropped the stick.

Blinking rapidly for a few seconds, he lunged forward and gripped the bars.

His eyes were wide.

When Xaphile stared at him blankly, the little boy stuck his arm into the cage, little hand flailing as if it were trying to reach him. In the end, he let out a sigh since the kid obviously wanted something, and he probably wouldn't go away until he got it.

Slowly crawling over to the edge of the cage, he plopped down in front of the bars and buried his chin in his arms. He didn't look at his visitor again, even when he felt a little hand touch his filthy hair.

The physical contact was strangely soothing.

Xaphile lay there with his eyes closed, feeling the little boy's fingers rubbing against every part of his head, particularly his newly fur-covered ears and horns.

He didn't know why the child was so fascinated, but then again... he himself was still getting used to his new bodily quirks. And he had, on occasion, admittedly found himself becoming mesmerized by the fact that he had a tail.

The realization occasionally put him into a dazed stupor.

"Your name is Kirby, right?" he finally asked, shifting his head and looking at the kid. "You have the ball now. Why not go make up with your friends?"

The little boy blinked, then pouted a little, fervently shaking his head.

Xaphile merely looked at him for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"Well, not that I blame you," he muttered, once again tucking his chin back into his arms. "Those kids seemed pretty mean."

Kirby nodded, frowning at the dirt.

The child's touch disappeared from his head and reappeared on his fingers, making him crack an eye open: Kirby was holding his hand with an earnest and very worried expression. Xaphile lifted his left arm and gently draped his free palm over the child's.

"You'll be fine," he mumbled, feeling more relaxed than he'd been in a while. "If those children try to bully you, stand up for yourself. Make it clear that you won't play with them anymore if they keep being mean. You deserve better than what they're giving you, and you don't really need to be friends with people like that. Sometimes it's better not to, in fact."

When Kirby smiled brightly for a moment and nodded, Xaphile gave him an awkward and very weak grin in return, revealing his sharp fangs. Then he tiredly closed his eyes, figuring he'd given the child what he'd wanted.

He kept his eyes closed for a long time, but for whatever reason, Kirby didn't move.

After another ten minutes had come and gone, he opened his eyes again to discover that the child had shifted his position so he was also lying down comfortably. He was now staring straight at Xaphile with his thumb in his mouth.

"Why are you still here?" Xaphile asked, frowning a bit. "Aren't you scared of me?"

Kirby blinked at him.

Then shook his head.

"Why?" Xaphile inquired, feeling a little surprised. "Everyone else seems to be afraid... or really angry."

Kirby blinked again, then pulled his thumb out and scrunched his face up, letting out a hoarse cough. He seemed to struggle for a moment.

"You... look... same... as... grandpa," he coughed, speaking with a distinct raspy slur. "They... all... wrong. You... _nice_... demon... but... very... sad."

Xaphile stiffened and looked at him in alarm: for a child so young, his voice sounded horribly coarse... almost like people who'd been smokers their whole lives.

"Are you all right?" he quietly asked. "Your voice doesn't sound too good."

Kirby nodded, then tapped his throat and mimicked talking before slowly shaking his head.

"Can't..." he forcefully coughed out. "Can't... talk. Hurts."

"Oh," Xaphile sighed, immediately averting his eyes. "Sorry..."

Kirby nodded with a slight wince before giving him an apologetic expression. They merely stared at each other for a long moment after that, not really speaking and not really knowing why the other was staring.

But in the end, it was okay.

Kirby seemed comfortable enough just sitting beside him, and since Xaphile couldn't deny that it felt good to have some non-hostile company, he had no complaints.

"I'm tired," he rasped. "I'm going to get some sleep now. You can do what you want."

Closing his eyes, he curled up for real and planned to fall asleep.

Kirby watched him for a long time, hand resting in his own, but eventually his large brown eyes started to flutter a little. The more he stared at Xaphile's calm, relaxed face, the droopier his eyes became, but instead of getting up and leaving, he scooted closer to the cage and closed his eyes.

In the end, the two of them actually fell asleep, hand in hand.

And none of the people milling around them even seemed to notice.

None of them realized that one of the village children had fallen asleep with his arm cradled in the so-called demon's grasp until later that evening, when everyone had closed their shops... and it was only because Gus came with Xaphile's food like always.

The moment he spotted Kirby lying on his side in front of the cage, his bearded face went bone white and he dropped the dishes he was holding. Then, he bolted forward, every part of him tense. Kneeling down, he gripped the child's shoulder and shook him.

"Are you all right?" he hissed. "Gods, what did he do to you?!"

He started shaking the little boy even harder when he didn't move.

Kirby whined a little when the jostling persisted and sleepily tugged his shoulder away from the man's hands. Still mostly asleep, he scooted closer to the cage and curled up, letting out another grumpy whine.

It was only then that Gus looked beyond the little boy's prone form

His jaw instantly dropped.

Xaphile's face was calm and relaxed, mouth open just enough to reveal the tips of his fangs. His long-lashed eyes were closed, and he was breathing very deeply and evenly. However, this wasn't what had shocked the blonde... no, it was the fact that Kirby's small hand was resting in both of his.

He had actually curled up around the child's limb, holding it gently even in his sleep, as if it were a small baby. The man's face went completely blank and he could do absolutely nothing but stare, since he truly couldn't believe his eyes.

Then, something dawned on him.

Something that made his blood run cold.

"This boy," he muttered, staring at Xaphile's horns and tail with a stunned expression. "It can't be..."

He didn't resemble a demon... but... could it really be?

Octavius shook his head, then stood up and abruptly turned away, heading straight for the tavern that Ella often frequented. She needed to see this for herself, otherwise she wouldn't believe it, either.

After all, if his sudden suspicions were correct, they were in very, _very_ serious trouble.


	9. Chapter 9: Doubt

**Chapter Nine: Doubt**

Ella was pissed.

Beyond pissed.

So pissed that she wanted to strangle someone.

The weirdest part was the fact that she didn't even know why she was so angry.

This was a different type of rage than she was used to, and it hadn't set in until after she'd met the strange demon boy.

Letting out an irritated sigh, she set her chin down on the bar's counter, glaring at the wall.

All around her, the sound of laughing men and women filled the air, but instead of feeling comforting and warm like it usually did, the boisterous cheer only exacerbated her sour mood. Directly in front of her, a redheaded man named Drake tended the bar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His freckled face was warm and had a very gentle expression.

When she huffed again for the umpteenth time, however, he finally looked up.

"You know," he murmured, leaning forward with a knowing expression, "it's not good to bottle everything up, My Lady."

Ella glared at him with half-lidded eyes.

"It's nothing, Drake," she grunted, pulling out the golden locket her captive had dropped. "Just a demon causing me certain issues."

"Oh?" he asked, quirking a fiery eyebrow as he cleaned one of his mugs with a dishcloth. "That's rare... is it a strong one?"

"I'm not sure. It doesn't seem all that powerful," Ella snorted, lifting the beautiful necklace with grumpy eyes. "Then again, it _did_ manage to disarm me."

The man's eyes widened and his hand stilled.

"You?" he whispered, looking seriously frightened. "A beast actually managed to disarm you?"

"Yes," she groused, giving him a sour look. "For the first time since I finished my training, I was disarmed... but there's no need to fear."

"My lady," he murmured, returning to his business. "This is cause for worry. You're the strongest warrior in Chisago Village _and_ the Countess of Fiore's southern provinces. If something happens to you..."

"Nothing will happen," she rapped out. "Do not doubt me."

The man immediately fell silent, since she looked madder than a hellcat.

With good reason, too.

After all, a strange demon had fearlessly waltzed up to her, disarmed her with literally no effort whatsoever, and then lifted her into the air like a toy doll. But, that was _also_ the reason she was so blasted confused: why _had_ he embraced her?

She'd been open to his whims... he could have easily killed her in that moment, or worse... but instead, he'd swept her off the ground and into his arms.

Forget demonic, his actions had been almost _prince-like_.

And what was more, up until the flogging, the anger she'd felt towards him hadn't changed at all, not even when she'd watched him get kicked around by the villagers.

It was true that she'd been mildly disturbed to learn that the psychotic creature had a knack for mimicking human emotions straight down to the core of his eyes, but that hadn't made her angry, either. At least, not in a way that was any different than usual.

Lifting the beautiful necklace the demon boy had dropped, Ella irritably let it dangle in front of her eyes.

She had scrutinized every inch of this trinket over the last few weeks, yet she still had no idea what to make of it.

Like always, her brows furrowed when she looked at the words that had been engraved onto it.

"Ella's Heart," she muttered, nose wrinkling in confusion. "For my Darling Xaphile."

Xaphile.

That name also kept pissing her off for some reason.

It triggered a bizarre feeling of nostalgia, as though she should have known who it belonged to.

Letting out another huff of air, she slammed the necklace down in front of the barkeep, making him jump.

"Drake, I want you to look at this and give me your opinion on it," she snapped, grumpily folding her arms when he blinked at the piece of jewelry. "What are your thoughts?"

"My word," he murmured, instantly reaching for it with a gleam in his eyes; then he stopped and asked, "er... may I?"

When Ella indicated her approval, Drake picked it up and looked at it closely, taking note of the locket's golden shine before inspecting the gleaming chain. Blinking in total confusion, he walked over to the wall and gently pushed some bottles of wine to the side before grabbing a thin box.

Ella watched him pull out some tools with her chin resting on her hand, observing how he scrutinized its surface under a jeweler's glass, then tapped it gently with a small chisel.

His eyes slowly widened.

Finally, he set his tools down and stared at her in disbelief, brows furrowed darkly.

"Where did you get this?" he breathed. "My lady, tell me right now."

"Why does it matter?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Do you even know what this is _worth_?!"

"No," Ella admitted, cheek twitching as she shifted uncomfortably on the seat. "So what?"

"This necklace is one of a kind!" the man breathed, shaking his head in amazement. "The chain _should_ have broken a long time ago, and the pendant _should_ be dented beyond repair since they're both very old."

Ella paused, then frowned at him.

"Why should it be broken? I'm afraid I don't understand."

"This necklace is made of gold, Ellameira! Pure gold," he exclaimed, making her mouth drop open in shock. "As you know, creating jewelry from gold is foolish! It's too fragile."

"Impossible," she murmured. "It can't be."

"'Tis true: both the pendant and the chain binding it seem to be made of gold!" Drake told her. "Even stranger, the work is so fine that it couldn't have been crafted by human hands! I've never seen anything like it."

Ella scowled.

"Then how do you suggest it was made?" she demanded, looking closely at the thin golden threads weaving in and out to create the gorgeously braided chain. "If it wasn't made by a blacksmith, who could have possibly made such a fine piece of jewelry?"

"I don't know," the barkeep told her, grimly putting his toolbox away. "Especially since the gold seems to be much, much stronger than any I've ever seen. Whoever shaped it either used smithy tools we've never heard of, or magic. Also, the pendant is hollow."

 _"What?"_ Ella scoffed, giving him a disbelieving look. "Hollow? How can that be?"

"I don't know, my Lady," he sighed. "I tested it, just to be sure. In any regard. the craftsmanship is so flawless and perfect that this one necklace could probably be enough to buy an entire village. Or perhaps, even a castle like the one in the Capital."

Ella crossed her arms with a reserved expression.

"If it's hollow," she muttered, eyebrows raising a little, "could something be inside it?"

Drake shrugged.

"I do not know," he said simply. "What will you do?Now that you know what it's worth, will you sell it to some nobleman? Or will you perhaps take it to a wizard's guild to see if someone can appraise it's actual worth?"

"I'm going to get more information about it before I make up my mind," she explained, tapping the locket without looking at him. "Thank you for your time. May I have some tea?"

"Of course," Drake murmured, turning around and grabbing a teabag off the shelf. "Might want to enjoy it while you can. I had a farmer who works at a settlement to the north send me a message across the Lacrima just yesterday with bad tidings. Apparently, the crops are all dying and they can't explain why it's happening."

Ella blinked, then glanced up.

"Dying?" she snorted, furrowing her brows. "Is it an odd plague?"

"They don't know," Drake murmured, shaking his head, "but whatever it is seems to have stretched to our forests, too, since they've all begun to wither. Perhaps this is a foreshadowing of an oncoming drought?"

"Bah," Ella groused, face growing dark. "Rotten luck if it is. We already have enough trouble on our hands here."

"Indeed," the barkeep chuckled. "By the way... who is this Xaphile?"

Her eyebrow twitched.

"I don't know," she grumbled, shaking her head. "The other name engraved on there wasn't my own. It must have been a different Ella."

 _His_ _Ella,_ her mind involuntarily suggested.

However, the moment she thought it, she flamed bright red and let out a huge huff. She couldn't believe that she would even dare to think such a thing, since it meant she was doubting herself enough to take the words of a demon seriously.

She hated that thought even more than she did the puzzling necklace.

When a mug of herbal tea was set down in front of her, she set her hands on the sides of the cup and looked at the necklace again.

Her irritation abruptly flared anew.

With rough hands, she snatched the locket off the bar and jammed it in her pocket, the grumpily downed her drink. Finished, she slammed a few coins down on the counter in front of her and stood up, sweeping angrily towards the door.

Upon walking out into the nighttime air, Ella took a deep breath and let the cool breeze wash over her heated cheeks.

She stood there for a long moment, dark cloak billowing in the breeze. Then she heard the soft sound of footsteps to her left and turned, feeling rather surprised to find herself looking at Octavius Macintosh. He was aggravatedly walking back and forth near the door of the bar, one hand running through his wild cornflower hair.

Her lips instantly curled and she headed over to him, figuring now would be as good of a time as ever to ask if the beast she'd taken prisoner was healthy enough to receive his next punishment.

"Gus," she barked, making the man jump with a yelp and whirl to face her. "What are you doing?"

"I... I-I-I-I was..." he stammered, looking violently flustered by her appearance. "I-I was hoping I..."

"Never mind," she snorted, brushing off his mood with a wave. "Tell me, how fairs the demon we captured?"

His eyes grew shadowed and he let out a sigh.

"His wounds are well on their way to healing, but he still seems... lifeless," Gus explained, unhappily lowering his eyes. "Speaking of which... I wish to show you something unbelievable. Come with me, my Lady. It's urgent."

"What?" she demanded, scowling at him; however, when he snatched her wrist and started pulling her, the albino's pink eyes widened. "Hey! What are you-"

"Please, hear me out," Gus interrupted, jaw growing taut as he dragged her towards the market square. "I feel like we've made a horrible mistake."

"What are you saying?" she spat, gripping his hand with her free one and fighting to get his fingers off of her. "Octavius! Release me! Have you lost your mind?!"

"No, I have not! In all actuality, I should be the one asking if _you've_ lost _yours_!" he barked, giving her such a harsh glare that she stiffened. "That boy is not a demon!"

Her jaw dropped open in outrage.

"If not a demon," she growled, hair standing on end, "then what, exactly, is that creature supposed to be?!"

Gus's footsteps slowed, expression growing unbelievably dark.

"I think..." he stated quietly, giving her a very serious look, "that he might be a woodland fairy."

Ella's mouth twitched and she sneered at him.

"Impossible," she coldly informed him, giving him a highly unamused expression. "Fae no longer exist in Fiore's southern regions... the demons wiped them all out years ago."

"Then what do you make of _that?_!" the blonde man hissed, jerking her around the corner of a building and pointing straight at the cage. "Tell me! What sort of demon would fall asleep holding the hand of a human child?!"

"What?" she snapped, following his finger with confused eyes. "There's no human chi..."

Her words died on her tongue and she froze solid when she saw that Gus was absolutely correct: there was a little boy lying fast asleep in front of the cage. His arm had been thrust through the bars, and the strange creature that had so badly pissed her off for reasons she couldn't identify was holding his hand.

He was just as deeply asleep as the child, from the looks of things.

Bile rose up her throat, and before she realized it... she was seeing red.

Just as she took a step forward, the creature inside the cage let out a deep, wavering groan, stirring slightly in his sleep.

She halted in her tracks.

Ella's brows furrowed when he continued shifting, breath growing deeper and much more ragged. The sounds caused the little boy to twitch and sit up, rubbing his eyes and looking around in a daze. However, when he noticed the beast's change in breathing, he crawled over and stuck both hands through the bars.

The village boy gripped his shoulder and shook him until his whole body jerked.

Lunging upright with a hoarse gasp, the injured youth blindly scrabbled away from the front of the cage until his back was pressed against the other side of it. Chest rapidly rising and falling, he pushed against the floor of the cage with his feet.

To her aggravation, though, she couldn't see much more than that.

"Demon... okay...?" a hoarse voice suddenly rasped. "Feel... bad?"

Ella's eyes immediately widened and she looked closer, since she knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

 _Kirby Crawford?_ she silently wondered, gritting her teeth. _How, and why, is he speaking to the very creature that everyone was told to avoid when he hasn't spoken a single word to anyone, period, for ten whole years?_

She didn't know, but it bothered her greatly: the Crawford family had once been wealthy tailors, known throughout all of Fiore by poor and wealthy folk alike.

Ten years ago, a horrible attack on their village had occurred, and with the exception of his grandfather, Marty... nobody in their family had survived. Kirby, only a year old at the time, had been unable to use his voice normally since the smoke he'd inhaled from the fires of that day had damaged his throat and lungs beyond repair.

He hadn't even bothered trying for anyone but his grandfather, and that in itself was a stretch.

So, why now?

Why _him_?

She watched with disbelieving eyes as the demon turned to look at the child, unable to see his expression clearly.

"Only my heart," Xaphile's distant voice whispered. "I'm fine... really. My back doesn't really hurt much anymore. And my sides... they're okay."

"Heart... hurt?" Kirby rasped, stretching out a hand. "Why?"

For several moments, there was silence... but then, the clouds that had been obscuring the moon opened up a little, illuminating the area. And for the first time since she'd arrived, Ella could see Xaphile's face.

Her heart instantly tightened and she felt a barrage of confusion and anger fill her to the brim, but mostly, she simply didn't understand what she was looking at. He was looking out at nothing with a blank expression, shaking fist being held against his breast.

But his eyes... his eyes were full of raw agony.

Not the look of a man in physical pain, but pain that was felt within... pain she'd seen only once before. In that moment, she understood why Octavius had compared the beast to Marty Crawford. His eyes held something that spoke a terrible message of loss.

The look on his face sent chills running down her spine.

"Do you see?" Gus whispered, making her lift her eyes to his face; the blonde was looking down at her with a glare. "I've been watching him since the day you flogged him, my Lady... he is not a demon, and I fear we should release him before we incur the wrath of the forest. That creature... I truly believe he may be a surviving fairy."

Ella turned her gaze back on the dark-haired youth, taking note of his tail, mane, claws, and horns. Truly, he was one of the most bizarre demons she'd ever seen... he wasn't particularly ugly, aside from his inhuman qualities, and he didn't really look like a monster. In fact, he was more human in appearance than beast... it was indeed strange.

"I'm not convinced," she groused, giving a sigh of irritation when the man deflated and lowered his eyes, " _but..._ I will take your opinion into consideration, for this news is indeed very disconcerting."

"What of him?" he asked, gesturing to the caged young man with worried eyes.

"I'll be doing a bit of snooping around," Ella muttered. "If it does turn out that he is a fairy... and not a demon... I will release him, and no further harm will befall him. Are you satisfied?"

Gus looked at her with a startled expression.

"My Lady, I am truthfully grateful to you for heeding my words," he stated humbly, lowering his head. "My apologies for dragging you here against your will."

"No, it was necessary," she stated, watching as Kirby finally got to his feet and wandered off towards his house. "If it turns out that he is indeed one of the Fair Folk... I fear that the forest will never forgive me for what I have done to him. I will take it from here, huntsman... you may leave."

Octavius blinked and nervously headed off in the direction they'd come from, casting glances back over his shoulder as he went. Once he was out of sight, she looked at the caged creature once again... then she stepped forward, one foot at a time, until she was standing before him.

His eyes slowly shifted and he looked up at her without moving his head.

For a long moment, all she did was stare at him, brows furrowed and face tight with barely-restrained frustration.

She watched as a single tear slid out of the corner of his eye and down to his chin.

"You're here," he quietly noted, catching her off guard; she blinked when she realized that the expression on his face had turned cold. "I guess this means you're going to torture me again?"

Her eyes flashed, but instead of letting him get the better of her temper, she brushed it off and squatted down. Looking at him with an intense expression, she contemplated the questions she now had.

"What are you?" she demanded, tilting her head slightly. "Tell me."

He blinked once, but aside from that his face didn't even twitch.

"I don't know... I used to be a human like everyone else," he admitted, tone coming surprisingly dark. "Now I'm not sure."

Her face slipped into an uncomfortable expression.

"You said to me... that you killed yourself," Ella stated quietly, not breaking eye contact. "If this is the truth, however strange and impossible it sounds... answer me something. What could you have possibly gained by doing something so foolish? To take your own life seems like the act of a coward. But you aren't a coward at all."

His eyebrow twitched.

"How do you figure?" he quietly demanded, eyes glittering like stars in the dim light. "You don't even know me."

"In the capital, I've seen criminals tried and put through much, MUCH less than what I did to you," Ella grunted, frowning a bit. "Every single one either begged for mercy, screamed, or cried... and one even wet himself."

"Doesn't answer my question," he flippantly noted, ignoring the glare she threw at him. "How does any of this relate to me?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Aside from asking me to stop only once," she growled, clenching her hand into a fist, "not a single sound left your lips, not even a whimper. That kind of resistance takes courage. So, tell me... since you're not a coward, why did you run away from life itself?"

The moment she asked, it was like a switch had been thrown: his eyes slowly deadened, and after a moment, he looked away from her.

"I didn't run away from life... I followed someone into death," he quietly corrected, looking up at the moon through the bars of his cage. "The girl I loved died... and the thought of living without her was too much to handle. So, I gave up everything and followed her. I never did find her, though... instead, I somehow wound up here... with _you_."

He said the last part as if it were some sort of curse. His bitter tone piqued her anger, and she nearly unloaded on him... but then she realized something and paused. Bitterness was a form of emotion, and one she was all too familiar with.

He was alarmingly accurate with his portrayal of it.

Biting back her irritation, she looked at him with a haughty demeanor.

"You were a fool," she said simply. "I'm not this girl of yours. You even say we look exactly alike, but I find that very hard to believe since my appearance is different than that of other living beings."

"That's kinda the point," he derisively snorted.

"I've never once met another person who has come relatively close to resembling me in any shape or form," she continued, giving him a glare. "As you can see, I'm very white... my hair, my brows... my lashes, even my skin. I'm an unusual oddity."

His eyes belied no feeling whatsoever.

"You have extreme sensitivity to heat, cold weather, _and_ sunlight because of it, and your vision is very poor," he sourly told her, making her stiffen in shock. "Your eyes move uncontrollably sometimes, and because of it your vision flickers violently. You bleed more than you should, too, even if it's just a small scrape from falling down."

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes widening in sheer horror.

"How do you know of this!" she shrieked, drawing her sword in a flash and sliding it through the bars. "ANSWER ME!"

When the point dug into the side of his throat, he turned his head and looked at her, giving a grim little smile. A small cut opened on his neck because of the movement, but it wasn't deep enough to be of any mortal threat.

"Because... you really are the same as my Ella," he stated quietly, eyes looking through her rather than at her. "You don't just look alike, you even have the same condition."

Her brows furrowed, and she lowered the sword a little.

"Condition?" she demanded lowly, not believing her ears. "I don't have a condition..."

"You do," he told her, closing his eyes. "It's called albinism. It's the reason you're so pale."

Ella's jaw tightened, and for a moment, she almost lost her temper... but then, she jerked the sword out of the cage and sheathed it before pulling out the locket. Clutching it by the shimmering chain, she held it in front of the cage and watched as he looked at it, but before she could open her mouth his listless expression turned to one of shock.

"That's mine!" he cried, instantly crawling forward and reaching for the bars. "Give it back to me!"

"Excuse me?!" Ella barked, jerking it away from his hands. "This isn't yours! It can't be! Someone like you could never have gotten something like this without stealing it!"

"It's mine! Please!" he cried, expression laced with frantic desperation. "It's the only thing I have left of her!"

Ella's eyebrows raised, then she smirked, coming up with a wicked idea.

"Oh?" she drawled, leaning forward and swinging it back and forth. "If that's the case, then... what exactly is your name, little demon?"

"Huh?" the imprisoned youth asked, blinking at her in total confusion. "My... name?"

"Yes, your name," Ella repeated, secretly figuring that if he'd stolen it, he wouldn't have been able to read the names. After all, it was no mystery that even a vast majority of regular common folk couldn't read much, if at all... so the way she saw it, there was no way a creature like him could know his letters. "Tell me... what is it?"

"Xaphile," he stated quietly, still struggling to reach for the locket. "My name is Xaphile Herseroph! But that doesn't matter... just give me my locket... please."

Her expression darkened, but she wasn't convinced.

"If this is yours, you would know what's inside it," she growled, "but you don't know, do you?"

He stared at her, flailing hand momentarily pausing: his face slowly took on a disbelieving expression.

"Of course I know what's inside," he growled, mouth trembling in fury. "I'm warning you... if you did anything to them, I will never forgive you. Even if you have her face."

Ella's eyebrows rose in outrage at the threat, but then she processed the full weight of his statement.

"Them?" Ella slowly asked, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean, _them_? What's inside this pendant of yours?"

"You haven't figured out how to open it?" he asked, looking genuinely shocked. "Seriously?"

She scowled at him.

"Would I be asking if I had?" she sarcastically demanded, narrowing her eyes. "Start talking. I grow weary of this."

He glared at her for a long moment, then closed his eyes.

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"There's a little ridge sticking out on the left side," Xaphile told her, turning his head away. "Hook your nail behind it and pull it down. Be gentle."

The cloaked girl warily eyed him, checking for any signs of deceit, before she lifted the locket and examined it more closely on the left side: much to her surprise, she found herself looking directly at the small ridge she'd initially mistaken as a lump in the metal. Inspecting it more closely, however, she realized with a bout of amazement that there was a thin crack peeking through the very center of it.

She hooked her nail into the ridge and gently tugged as she'd been instructed.

Ella had been expecting some hidden trap, or a secret treasure... possibly even a small creature of sorts.

Instead, when the locket flicked open, there was nothing inside.

She instantly scowled.

"There's nothing here," she growled, looking up at him. "You lying piece of... how dare you tell a falsehood to me!"

"Look at the locket itself," he muttered, not opening his eyes. "Both sides of it. The inner walls."

She blinked, then looked down... but what she saw didn't make sense.

 _What?_ she wondered, peering closely. _Small... Paintings?_

No... they were something else, something much more detailed.

But that wasn't what she found so strange.

It was what the images depicted that she found bizarre.

On the right side of the picture was her own face: it took her by total surprise and shocked her so badly that she nearly dropped it, but even upon bringing the piece of jewelry as close to her eyes as she possibly could, there was no mistaking it. The girl inside the locket was definitely her... but at the same time, it _wasn't_ her.

After all, the girl in the portrait had hair that stretched down out of sight, her cheeks were red like that of a maiden in love, and there was a young man kissing her cheek.

That's when she noticed it.

The boy in that picture looked exactly like the one in front of her, only he didn't have horns, his ears were human, and his pupils were soft and round. Heart growing cold, Ella glanced at the other image, realizing with a jolt that it was indeed actually him. Looking up from the picture with huge eyes, she compared his face with a taut mouth, not believing what she was seeing.

Then she looked down at the other people in the photo.

On the left was, once again, the stranger who looked exactly like her. Her doppelganger's flowing white hair was so long that even though the image cut off at the waist, it still stretched down out of sight. She was clinging to his arm... but there was also someone on the right. Ella looked at the other woman with furrowed brows, realizing she looked vaguely familiar.

Cherubic cheeks, soft brown hair, a smile with a few familiar dimples... even the eyes.

There was something vaguely familiar about her.

"This woman," Ella growled, lifting the locket and holding it out. "Who is she?"

He looked at the pictures, giving a slow blink.

"Connie Richardson," he quietly explained, shaking his head. "Ella's mother."

The moment he said it, she felt a strange sensation wash over her heart.

It was a feeling that made her very, very uneasy even though she didn't know why.

Almost abruptly, she stood up, pulling her hood above her head.

"I'll return on the morrow," she snapped, trying to hide how shaken she was by hastily walking away. "I will be passing your sentence then."

"If so... kill me when you do," Xaphile emptily called, making her footsteps falter a little. "If you're going to torture me... torture me to death. Set me free."

She felt a cold sensation settle over her heart, and her power walk turned into a full blown run.

She didn't know why, but this whole situation felt... wrong.

And for the second time in her life... she felt as though she had somehow made a very horrible mistake.


	10. Chapter 10: Sentenced

**Chapter Ten: Sentenced**

After Ella left... the night dragged on slowly for Xaphile.

Teal eyes devoid of any emotional sheen, he lay curled up on his side, long hair spread out around him.

She would be passing his sentence tomorrow... whatever she had planned probably wasn't going to be painless, but he figured he could handle it. Being abused by his father had given him an extraordinarily high pain tolerance, as well as a few mental tactics to escape his physical pain. If whatever was going to happen hurt too much, he would simply go somewhere else inside his head.

As he lay there, however, all he could think about was Ella.

Not the evil clone... but the girl he'd initially fallen for.

His hands twitched, and he drew them close to his chest, feeling the familiar ache washing over his heart. The yearning to hold her... the desire to wrap his arms around her just one more time. The ache to embrace someone who could never embrace him back. Even though his mind kept telling him she was gone, the void in his heart continued reaching for her.

Or rather, for what she'd taken with her when she'd passed on.

All he could do now was wonder about everything.

How had people reacted once word had gotten out that he'd taken his own life in the very same spot Ella had died in?

How had his death affected Connie?

Regret filled him momentarily, but the hollow sensation where his heart used to be overshadowed it, reminding him of the reasons behind his own actions. He had left her a note explaining things: that was the only thing that mattered. Plus, it wasn't like his father would miss him... in fact, his old man was probably celebrating.

After all, without him, there was one less mouth to feed.

Unbidden, tears stung his eyes like acid and began streaming into his hair, but he didn't even care enough to wipe them away. His vision clouded over and blurred as his pain took on physical form and trickled down across his nose and onto the floor of the cage. The moonlight did nothing to soothe him.

The pain continued rising... smothering him... crushing his heart.

Slowly moving his leaden arms, he forced himself to sit up and weakly pressed his back against the bars.

He felt like he would go insane if he didn't do something with himself.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift off somewhere else... picturing Ella. Her smile... her face... her voice... the sensation of her soft, cool hand holding his own... and just like that, his release came to him.

" _All my friends tell me I should move on, I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song. Oooooh, that's how you sing it,_ " he quietly hummed, voice coming out as little more than a velvety murmur. " _Loving you forever, can't be wrong. Even though you're not here, won't move on. Ooooooh, that's how we play it._ "

Back before his life had crumbled around his ears, Lana Del Rey had been his favorite singer.

He'd dreamed of meeting her someday.

Until the moment Ella had passed away, he hadn't really resonated with many of her songs, but Ella had loved it whenever he'd sung them. This song... Dark Paradise... he truly understood it.

He understood the loss behind the lyrics.

"... _and there's no remedy for memory. Your face is like a melody: it won't leave my head. Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine._ _But I wish I was dead..._ "

He quietly it belted out, voice bouncing off of the strange stone buildings.

" _Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. N_ _o one compares to you. I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side._ _Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you. I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other sid_ e..."

As his lilting, lightly accented voice floated through the air, something flashed across an open window nearby.

Not long after, a face that looked addled with sleepiness appeared.

" _All my friends ask me why I stay strong... t_ _ell 'em when you find true love it lives on. Ooooh... that's why I stay here. And there's no remedy for memory... your face is like a melody: it won't leave my head. Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine... but I wish I was dead._ "

Several glossy strands of voluminously curly hair slid into the open as a girl who looked to be in her late teens poked her head outside the window. She blearily peered around, obviously trying to find the source of the song, but it wasn't until she realized it was coming from the cage that her eyes widened with lucidity.

Blinking rapidly, she leaned on the sill and listened.

" _'Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you. I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side,"_ Xaphile hummed, " _Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you... but there's no you, except in my dreams tonight_ _._ "

Silence rang free for a moment.

 _"_ _I don't wanna wake up from this tonight_ _,"_ he softly trilled, eyes blurring with more tears. "I don't want to wake up ever again."

Just as he was about to curl up and attempt go to sleep, a very soft voice split the air.

"I didn't think demons could know such beautiful poetry," the girl in the window said quietly. "I was always told they were mindless beasts... but that was one of the loveliest things I've ever heard. Tis a shame it comes from the mouth of a creature so evil."

Xaphile lowered his head, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"I'm not evil," he whispered, drawing his knees up to his chin and burying his face in them.

" _All_ demons are evil."

"I'm not a demon, though," he tiredly shot back, "so don't assume things about me."

"Hm? If not a demon, what are you?" the girl asked, planting her chin on her hands and staring at the cage. "You sure _look_ like a demon with those strange horns of yours."

Her voice wasn't harsh or angry, just undeniably curious.

"I don't know anymore," Xaphile croaked, not lifting his head, "but in the end, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow, I'll be free. That's all I really care about."

"What do you mean you'll be free?" she asked, lifting her head off her hand. "You aren't thinking of going on a rampage, are you?"

"No, nothing like that," he snorted, finally looking up. "Ella's passing my sentence tomorrow."

The girl fell silent, hand falling to her side.

She looked uncomfortable.

"What's your name?" she eventually asked, hooking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. "If you're going to die, I would at least have that."

He scowled, then lay back down.

"It doesn't matter," he bitterly informed her, curling up into a ball. "My life is worthless."

With a solemn blink, the girl slowly turned away from the window, long hair gleaming.

"All life has meaning," she stated quietly, voice trickling out into the open air. "Even if you _were_ just a murderous beast until now, yours has a meaning, too."

Xaphile watched as she let the curtain fall across her window.

He closed his eyes about a minute after she disappeared, feeling more than a little exhausted. Reluctantly, he lowered his head and sank into a gentle doze despite his willingness to stay up. Not long after he did so, though, soft mutterings intruded on his flickering dreams and roused him into awareness.

He opened his eyes a little... then they popped open wide.

For some bizarre reason, the girl from a few minutes ago was sitting in front his cage. Her hands were folded around a cross and her eyes were closed. She was barefoot and wearing an extremely old-fashioned nightgown, but the strangest part was the sight of the tears on her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded, feeling extremely confused. "More importantly, why are you out here?"

"Death is sad," she told him, not opening her eyes. "I will pray for you until morning."

"Why?"

"Because there's a strange amount of sadness within you. I heard it in your voice."

"How do you figure?" he bitterly sneered. "Everyone else seems to think I'm incapable of feeling anything at all."

"Well, while its true that demons don't feel," she murmured, shaking her head, "somehow, your voice was full of pain. I will pray that the gods might take pity on you... that they might embrace you with open arms."

Xaphile stared off into space, tightening his jaw.

"If I'm really a demon now," he rasped, voice coming out low and coarse, "don't bother. Demons go to hell, so no matter how hard you pray for me, I'll never be able to find the woman I love."

"Eh...?" the girl breathed, head snapping up and eyes flying open in surprise; they were a clear crystal blue, but flecked with specks of green. "The woman... you _love_?"

"Yes," he grunted. "It simply doesn't matter anymore."

"Why?" she asked, blinking with confused eyes. "If what you say is true, doesn't it mean that you know love? If that's so, it's a good thing! It means there's a small chance you can be set free!"

He turned his head and looked at the brunette sitting in the dirt by the cage. She seemed genuinely concerned. He realized with a flash of recognition that this was the same girl who had been standing riveted while Ella had whipped him.

"Free?" he asked, averting his gaze. "There's no freedom here."

The girl tilted her head, glossy brown hair falling across her eyes as she gazed at him.

"Why?" she quietly asked. "What happened to you?"

His mouth twisted.

"The girl I loved," he rasped, voice falling to an almost unrecognizable croak, "she _died._ "

For several moments, all she could do was stare at him.

Then, leaning forward, she carefully wriggled her hands through the bars and hesitantly reached out to him. He blinked when she pressed herself against the cage and gently touched him, observing her nervous expression while she set the red jewel residing on her cross against his skin. She waited for an entire minute.

Her face slowly took on an ashen tint and she looked stricken once she pulled the cross back out of the cage. With trembling hands, she fastened it around her neck and leaned close to the bars a second time, sticking her arms through the gaps and gently touching his cheek. Her expression slackened when she felt the wetness there.

"Tears...?" she asked, straightening up in shock. "You have been crying?"

He merely looked at her, not having the will to answer the obvious.

Not like it mattered.

His expression was enough to answer her question.

Instantly becoming distraught, she carefully brushed his tears away with her thumbs, then lowered her hands to his.

"This is wrong," she whispered, lowering her eyes to the ground. "I wish there were some way I could stop this. I would, if there were, but once Lady Ella decides something, nobody can stop her. Not even me. She's the Countess, after all."

"It's fine," he whispered back, staring off at nothing. "Don't bother me anymore."

Her eyes actually watered after he said it, and she abruptly tightened her grip on his hand.

He slowly turned his head and looked at her when she squeezed his palm, fingers shaking a little.

"Is there nothing I can do to ease your suffering?" she asked, looking at him with an earnest expression. "You should not have to cry all alone in the dark, especially not in a _cage_."

"No," he said simply. "The kind of freedom I want can't be given by letting me out of here. Even if you did somehow manage to convince Ella to let me go, it wouldn't make me happy."

She squeezed his hand so hard it almost hurt.

Then she let go and pulled her arms out.

"What is your name?" she demanded. "I do not wish for you to be forgotten. Tell me your name... that way, at least someone will remember you."

She folded her hands, looking genuinely torn.

Eyes lacking all luster, he caved in, figuring it didn't matter either way.

"Xaphile. My name is Xaphile Heseroph."

"Shah... Sha... fee... leh?" she slurred, sounding it out with furrowed brows. "Um, that's surprisingly hard for me to say. Do you mind if I call you... er, Xaphy?"

In an instant, his heart seized.

Body jolting, he clamped two hands over his furry ears and folded up, curling into the fetal position.

"Anything but that!" he squeaked, gritting his teeth. "Never call me that! Ever!"

She leaned away and blinked rapidly before examining his posture more closely.

"Then, Phil," she murmured, nodding twice. "I'll call you Phil instead."

"Do what you want," he croaked, not uncurling from the ground. "It doesn't matter anymore. Just, don't call me Xaphy."

"As you wish," she murmured, making him wince. "Do not worry. You will not have to face this night all alone, for I will stay by your side and pray for you until dawn."

Xaphile didn't believe she would.

But, he was proven wrong.

True to her word, the girl sat in front of the cage with her hands folded over her cross for the rest of the night, praying with a tight expression. Even when the horizon began to brighten, she sat there, hands clasped tightly. It was only when the sound of distant voices came from around the corner that her eyes opened.

Looking at Xaphile, she bit her lip, then glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm afraid I can do no more for you," she quietly told him, getting to her feet and brushing the dirt off the front of her frilly nightgown. "I promise I will not let you be forgotten, Phil."

He didn't respond: eyes dead to the world, he merely stared off into space and waited.

The sound of approaching people grew louder.

"You should go," he rasped, not moving a muscle. "If they find you here, it might cause you some problems."

The girl shifted uncomfortably, looking at him from over her shoulder. She seemed reluctant to leave him for some bizarre reason. Her blue eyes nervously flashed back and forth and she clenched her fists in obvious frustration, but in the end she ran off towards the edge of the houses and clean out of sight. Not long after, a group of guards holding a multitude of ropes came into view from the opposite corner, sweeping towards him with smirks and grins on their faces.

Pulling a set of keys out of a small pouch, the man in front unlocked the cage and backed away.

"Out!" he barked, jerking the ropes in his hand. "On your feet, beast."

Xaphile pushed himself upright and crawled out into the open, but before he could stand up, someone's boot smashed him face-first into the ground. He winced when he got a mouthful of dirt, but he merely put up with it when they jerked his arms behind his back and tied him like they had before.

With the exception of his feet, they tied every part of his body, even going as far as wrapping a rope around his throat.

He winced again when the head guard jerked on the makeshift leash.

"So, where are we taking him this time?" one of the men inquired. "Did Lady Ella inform you, captain?"

"We were told to bring him to the post in the town square again," the lead guard snorted, cruelly dragging Xaphile behind him when they started walking. "Apparently, she's going to sentence the beast at sunrise. Everyone has already gathered."

"Shite," another man groused in disappointment. "That means this is the only opportunity we have to enjoy a bit more fun before she kills it."

"Might as well make it memorable, then."

When one of the guards behind him snickered, he didn't think anything of it until someone grabbed his tail and yanked on it.

It was like he'd been shocked.

His back involuntarily arched and the appendage flailed around until it broke free. Without a word, he used whatever subconscious control he had over the damn thing to make it wrap around his leg to keep it away from their awful hands.

"Damn, did you see its face?!" someone whistled. "Must not have liked that."

"The same way you wouldn't like getting stabbed in the spine," Xaphile growled, not turning around. "Asshole."

A sharp blow sent his head flying forward.

"Hold your tongue,"the man behind him barked. "Filth such as yourself has no business talking to a human."

"The only filth here is you," Xaphile retorted quietly, defiantly lifting his head and walking with his shoulders squared. "I've never done anything to deserve how you bastards are treating me."

Another, much heavier blow, smashed into the back of his skull.

"Silence, lest I cut your tongue out of your head!" the man snarled. "Don't make me bloody my sword so early in the morning."

"Try sticking anything sharp in my mouth," Xaphile icily retorted, "and I'll bite your nasty fingers off."

When they rounded a corner and he found himself staring at what looked to be the entire village population, he was a little taken aback. Even so, he kept his head held high and ignored the looks they gave him, walking towards the post he'd been tied to ages ago.

 _So_ , he silently murmured. _I guess... this is where it's gonna happen, huh?_

He knew it instinctively.

Roughly gripping his hair, the man holding the leash violently forced him down on his knees and tied him to the post by wrapping a rope around it and pinning his body against the wood by the neck. The position was painful and awkward on his body since his arms had been tied behind him. He forcibly went inside his head before anything painful could happen.

His mind somehow detached from his body and he became physically numb, in a strange way. He watched from outside of himself as people began throwing rocks at him while the guards stood by, laughing. Hell, one of them even stepped forward and started kicking him in the back, but he felt absolutely nothing whatsoever.

"Today, we've gathered to watch Ella sentence the demon to death!" one of the guards roared, lifting his fist to the sky. "This is our symbol of defiance to the monsters that try to destroy us!"

A huge cheer rose up, but beyond them, there were two people watching in disbelief. One who's eyes were full of tears, and the other who's shaking hands were clasped around a cross.

That's when she appeared.

The cheers immediately fell silent and the crowd parted just like they had two weeks before when Ella herself slowly began to walk towards the steps leading to the post he'd been tied to. In her hands was a silver sword, and her eyes were hidden by the sweep of her hair. Xaphile looked up at her when she stopped in front of him.

For a long moment, she didn't move.

Merely clutched her sword with the wind tousling her gleaming locks.

It dragged on for a little too long, in fact.

"Just do it," he finally ground out, tensing his limbs. "End this."

When Ella slowly lifted the sword and held the point directly above his neck, the brunette watching him immediately turned around and covered her ears. The cross in her right hand flashed as she muttered something so quiet it couldn't be heard.

"I am passing your sentence now," Ella stated quietly, jerking the weapon violently. "Forgive me."

He relaxed, since relief would be his within seconds... but instead of feeling pain, the pressure around his neck disappeared.

He blinked when the bonds around his wrists were sawed off moments later, followed by the ropes around his upper torso. Not understanding what was going on, he slowly turned to look up at Ella, but instead of the fury he'd come to know, her face was dark with sullen regret.

"This is your sentence," she stated quietly, turning her eyes to the ground. "You are free."

Xaphile's heart turned cold, and he realized with a sense of icy dread that he'd been wrong.

Perhaps he wouldn't be free of this nightmare just yet.

"Why?" he whispered blankly, staring at her without blinking. "Why won't you _truly_ set me free?"

"Because I _cannot_ kill a primordial sprite," she stated calmly, eyes sharpening in an instant. "My life would become void, and the forest around this village would die. I cannot let that happen."

Others, however, looked horrified and fearful.

People instantly began to back away, some clasping their children and others their weapons.

"My... my lady!" a woman cried, watching as Xaphile rubbed his wrist. "What have you done?! You... you have set the beast loose within the walls of our city! What will we do?! He will kill us all!"

Ella whirled with a fierce sweep of her leg, silver hair flashing like molten platinum in the sunlight.

"He is no beast!" the albino thundered, looking out at the crowd with a tight expression. "Because of my naivety, I didn't realize the truth about this creature! All of us here have committed an atrocious sin! By hurting this boy, we've turned the forest itself against us!"

Everyone immediately fell still and eyes slowly widened all around.

Disbelief and fear began to alight on every face present.

"What are you saying?" a man with sandy blonde hair and beady grey eyes demanded, stalking forward and folding his arms. "A beast with power over the land?! Isn't that impossible?!"

Ella shook her head.

"What is he?!" a young woman called, holding a small child close to her. "Isn't he just a demon?!"

"No! He isn't!" Ella rapped out, then lifted her hand and pointed at all of the nearby trees. "Haven't you noticed it?! From the moment the people in this village first struck him, the forests surrounding our home have been withering away! Even the harvests in the villages north of here are failing!"

"Preposterous!" a man somewhere in the crowd barked. "No demon can control the forest! It's inconceivable! It must be a coincidence, my lady!"

"Precisely! No demon can control the forest," she stated firmly, shaking her head, "and it is because of my ignorance that we are now in a dire situation! This boy is not a demon!"

"Then what?!" someone cried. "He is certainly no elf or hybrid, so what could he be?!"

Ella's gaze was dark.

"He is our forest's very last fairy!" she thundered. "The last Primordial Sprite of the South!"

The reaction to her statement was instantaneous.

Xaphile blinked when gasps of horror and shock filled the air all over the place, and far in the corner, a vaguely familiar woman with very dark brown hair actually fainted. Every single person within seeing distance had turned bone white, and it was suddenly so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

Then... one by one... the guards dropped their swords and knelt down, lowering their heads.

Following suit, the crowd began to do the same, fearfully pressing their foreheads against the ground.

"Lady Ella... what are we to do?" Captain Angelo demanded, lifting his steel grey eyes with genuine fear on his face. "We have all wronged him... terribly. How can we ever atone for this?! What will the _King_ say if he learns of our actions?!"

"Do not worry... I will take responsibility for this," Ella grimly informed him. "It was my choice that led to this situation... and if it isn't corrected, I'm afraid that a terrible famine will fall across Aerika. The forests surrounding our village have already started to die. I need to fix my mistake."

With little fanfare, she flipped the sword around and held the handle out to Xaphile.

He blinked and looked at it with a blank face, then glanced back up at her.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, staring at her with unblinking eyes. "Your... sword?"

"Take it," she stated coldly, eyes narrowing in a haughty manner. "With my own sword, strike me."

His already pale face went bone white.

"Lady Ella!" one of the guards whispered, eyes widening in horror when he slowly stood up and shakily took the weapon from her. "No... please! You mustn't! You're the Countess!"

She merely shrugged.

"If this will appease the wrath of the forest, I have to," she stated firmly, closing her eyes when the horned youth stared at the sword in his hand. "We all must bear the weight of our actions, no matter what they may be... but in turn, we must also take responsibility for them. Now, boy... strike me down."

Xaphile looked at her with disbelieving eyes.

Then, pupils sharpening, he lifted the sword and furiously smashed it so deeply into the wood that it was lodged nearly to the hilt. Ella jumped and gawked at the sword with alarm written across her features, then glanced up to see his eyes glowing with a bizarre aquamarine light. She jumped again, face growing taut when she realized that his irises were indeed radiating their own luminescence. It was the strangest thing she'd ever seen.

Not even demons had eyes quite like the ones she now found herself staring into.

However, everyone flinched when he growled.

Letting go of the sword, he furiously turned away from her, shoulders rigid and tail lashing out across the wood.

"Idiot," he hissed, gritting his teeth in fury as he stood there, staring at the wall with violently shaking muscles. "You're insane... you're ALL insane! How could you possibly think doing _this_ would gain my forgiveness?!"

"Then... what do you want?" Ella snapped, clenching her fists with anxiety lacing her expression. "How can we atone for what we've done to you?!"

"Nothing! You don't have to do anything!" Xaphile barked, not turning around. "If you truly want to atone for something... all _you_ have to do is keep _living_ , Ella. That's how you can atone!"

When he jerkily stalked towards the stairs, she lunged forward and grasped his wrist.

He immediately halted, long hair billowing around and tail twitching sharply.

It thumped against her legs involuntarily, but she pointedly ignored it.

"You can't abandon us without returning the forest to normal," she whispered, looking up at him with nervous eyes. "It was your doing... so, can't you fix it?"

Slowly turning his head, he glanced down at her, making her face turn even whiter than her hair.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he hissed, catlike eyes glimmering like pools of frozen hatred. "With all due respect, let go of me. _Now_."

To his surprise, she jerked her hand back as if she'd been scalded.

He took that opportunity to stumble down the stairs and move past the people crouching on the ground. Getting away from this hellhole was his top priority. He was startled when someone unexpectedly clutched his pant leg, holding onto him with little hands. Blinking, he slowly turned his head and looked down to see Kirby staring up at him.

The child looked close to crying.

"Stay?" he rasped, little fingers tightening on his pants. "Please?"

Xaphile blinked, then squatted down, looking at him with a tired expression.

"I can't..." he stated quietly, lifting a hand and tousling the child's hair. "I'm strong, but I can't handle this kind of treatment anymore."

"Please?" Kirby croaked, shaking his pant leg. "Stay?"

"I really can't," he soothed, shaking his head. "I mean, even if I did stay... where would I go?"

"You could stay with me," a gentle voice offered, making everyone stiffen. "I don't mind."

Xaphile lifted his eyes when the brunette who'd spent the night praying for him walked up, wearing a green dress with a white apron tied over it. Her hair had been braided into pigtails that had been draped over her shoulders, and her blue eyes were large behind her half-moon spectacles.

"You?" he asked, staring down at her with a frown. "Why?"

"Well, I live alone... and there's an extra room inside my home," she explained, blinking up at him. "If you truly are the last of the woodland fairies, my door is always open to you."

He looked at her, then stood back up and rose to his full height, muscles rippling in the sunlight.

"Are you sure?" he demanded, looking down at her with narrowed eyes when she walked up with folded hands. "What makes you think an offer like that is a smart idea? After all, I _could_ be holding a grudge for the horrible beatings these people gave me when I first arrived... as well as for the scars on my back, which they eagerly asked for _and_ laughed at."

Every single person sitting in the vicinity winced, and a few of them shivered violently, but the brown-haired girl merely looked up at him with calm blue eyes. Lifting a hand, she gently set it against his bare chest, splaying her fingers out.

"I wasn't among the hateful, Phil," she murmured, blue eyes becoming undeniably gentle. "I saw both occurrences... and both times, I felt like what they were doing to you was most definitely not right."

"Then why?" he demanded, folding his arms. "Why didn't you speak out?"

"I had no right to do so," she explained, then gestured behind her. "I'm only a town healer, not a political figure... I have no power to defy those who govern this village or this country. Regardless, I still don't understand what could have possessed my neighbors to think of torturing you. To have witnessed the people of my home doing such a thing shames me."

He glared for a moment, then lifted a clawed hand and made the cowering people flinch.

"Then why aren't you acting like them?"

Her eyes visibly softened.

"The reason I am not prostrating myself is because I don't fear you like they do," she admitted, shaking her head. "I will beg your pardon for their behavior, but I won't cower when there's nothing to be afraid of."

People tensed all around, watching with bated breath as he dropped his arms.

His posture looked a little less rigid, but only because he seemed genuinely perplexed.

"Why are you so calm?" Xaphile bluntly demanded, brows furrowing in confusion. "I mean... from the moment I was first brought here, everyone was either angry or afraid... so, why?"

"I heard your song," she murmured, small hand rubbing against the black streak of fur on his chest. "It held no anger... no evil... no hatred. Only sorrow."

Ella's eyebrows lifted and she slowly stepped down from the post, pulling her hood up as she did so.

Then, stalking forward, she looked at the brunette with a dark expression.

"Song?" she asked, lifting her eyes and warily leering up at the horned youth. "What song?"

"Don't worry about it," Xaphile muttered, refusing to look at her. "It's none of your business."

For a long moment, Ella merely scowled at him... but then, she pulled his locket out of her cloak and held it out.

His eyes flashed and his hand twitched.

"This is yours," she noted, tilting her head and regarding him with a snide expression. "Take it."

When he stretched out his clawed hand and gently clasped the necklace, she released it and watched as he held it close to his chest for a long moment. Then, he lifted his grimy waist-length hair and carefully fastened it around his neck, awkwardly letting it rest on top of the strange furry mane he'd somehow sprouted.

"Will you stay?" the brunette asked, looking up at him with genuine curiosity. "Or will you go?"

Xaphile didn't know what to do, but he figured spending a few days to recover from his injuries in a real bed would be better than doing so outside. Lifting his large, be-clawed hand, he set it on her shoulder and sighed.

"I don't know... I need to figure a few things out before I decide to do anything," he told her, eyes sharper than a blade. "For now... all I really want is to wash myself off. I feel... filthy."

The girl's blue eyes lit up, and in front of everyone, she let out a bright laugh.

"O-okay, I'll draw a bath right away," she giggled, cheeks growing rosy with mirth. "For now, though, I'll take that response as a yes... so follow me."

Still chuckling, the girl clasped her hands and primly walked off towards the edge of the marketplace.

Feeling exhausted and confused, Xaphile followed her, walking right past Ella.

"Hey," she murmured, making his footsteps pause. "What you said... about me atoning for what I've done by _living_... why in the world did you word it like that?"

He turned to look at her, laden with feelings he wanted nothing to do with.

"Because in our previous lives," he said quietly, "you died. And it literally destroyed nearly everyone who loved you."

She sighed in exasperation.

"I'm not this girl of yours! I mean it! Yes, it's bizarre that we look identical, but she isn't me!" Ella snapped, voice hardening a little in contempt. "Plus, even if that girl of yours _did_ die, time heals all wounds. Eventually, people would have gotten over it, no matter how sad they were."

Xaphile fell silent for a moment, choosing to stare at the ground.

"Not enough time has passed for me to judge whether that statement is true," he eventually grumbled, voice so low it was almost inaudible. "People loved _my_ Ella because of who she was... but none of them loved her as much as me. And if forgetting her was as easy as you assume, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

Ella lifted her eyes and stared.

"What are you saying?" she growled. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that when she died... she took my heart with her," he whispered, speaking in a numb tone of voice, "and deep down, there was a part of me that knew I'd never be able to get it back. So... I gave up on living."

"You... gave up on living," she repeated, eyebrow twitching a little. "You really believe that you took your own life?"

She was expecting more sarcasm, anger, or maybe even a bit of taciturn coldness.

But when he turned and gave her an awkward smile, it was so unexpected that she actually froze.

The look on his face was a combination of grief and resignation... a look she instinctively hated.

"Even in death, her memory torments me," he weakly chuckled, gazing at her with crystal clear eyes that seemed to cut clean down into her soul. "Looking at you is painful. You are _my_ Ella living in a world where we never met. It's nightmarish, but also a blessing that I'm kinda grateful for."

"Grateful...?" she whispered, suddenly feeling afraid without knowing why. "What do you mean?"

Those clear, blue-green eyes softened a little... then, turning around, he walked up to her. Lifting his large hand, he set it on the top of her head and gently ruffled her hair with another weak little smile that made her stomach clench.

"As much as I loved you back then... and as much as I still love you, even now," he murmured, gently stroking her head, "I would rather see you alive and hating every fiber of my being than dead because you were in love with me."

"But I'm not that girl of yours!" she cried, finally losing her temper. "I'm not _that_ Ella!"

He smiled again, expression tight with sorrow.

"I know," he murmured. "Sorry for the misunderstanding."

When he slowly turned and walked away from her, matted black hair drifting in the breeze, she watched him go with large, confused eyes, touching the top of her head. A warm wind swept through the gap between them as the distance grew larger and larger. Xaphile's head hung low as he departed.

All he wanted was to go to sleep and never wake up again.


	11. Chapter 11: Reality

**Chapter Ten: Reality**

Numb.

Somehow, that's what he had become.

Xaphile could feel Ella's piercing stare on his back as he followed the small brunette down the medieval cobblestone street.

It was like being burned.

Everything remained completely silent until he walked around the corner: thirty seconds after that, a large amount of chaos broke out behind them, but as they walked, the cacophony began to fade away, and he was actually very grateful for it.

His whole body still ached from the previous beatings he'd received, not counting the new one, so the last thing he really wanted was to be around the same people who'd done it while they were freaking out. It wasn't until they rounded another corner that the brunette unexpectedly whirled.

When he paused, her crystal blue eyes sparkled at him from behind her glasses.

"Isn't it great, Phil?!" she squeaked, smiling up at him with relief written across her features. "You don't have to die anymore! You're free! And now, because everyone knows that you're really a fairy, nobody would dare to lay a finger on you! You're safe from harm!"

He slowly lowered his eyes and merely looked at her.

In truth, he wasn't happy... not at all.

If anything, he actually felt more desolate than when he'd initially taken his own life.

But this strange girl was looking at him with earnest eyes, and she was also one of the only three people in wherever the hell this was to show him any genuine kindness.

So, instead of being grim, he masked his emotions and nodded in an almost robotic manner.

"That's great," he said simply. "I'm glad."

She bit her lip, looking a little dismayed.

"I'm sorry..." she sighed, lowering her eyes with a guilty expression. "I haven't even introduced myself to you, and here I am trying to make light of everything you went through."

"It isn't a big deal," he muttered. "Really."

A gentle smile touched her eyes.

"Let's get formally acquainted, shall we?" she trilled, bowing her head. "My name is Amelia Von Dolan. I'm an herbalist and part-time healer... although, my magic isn't very strong."

Xaphile actually blinked, then tilted his head, brows furrowing a little.

"Magic?" he asked, not believing his ears. "What do you mean by magic?"

"Oh, it's only basic stuff like healing flesh wounds and cleansing infection," she sighed, flapping a dismissive hand. "Really, my ability isn't anything special. Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

He bit his tongue and let out a huff. She obviously hadn't gotten the point of his question, but he decided not to push it since things definitely weren't normal in wherever he was. Flicking one of her braids over her shoulder, she walked up to a nearby door and unlocked it using a key she pulled out of her apron pocket.

Xaphile followed her inside the building, feeling dazed.

The interior was small, and also like something straight out of a movie from the middle ages. He looked around with raised eyebrows, taking note of the strange furniture and primitive oven. The strangest part was the row of bookshelves along the wall, since there was a reflective sheen radiating off of each tome.

It was like a small, glowing library.

He swallowed when she led him down a narrow hallway towards the back of the house. After she opened the door and stepped aside, he hesitantly peered around the corner, tail gently flicking back and forth.

The room was covered with dust, a testimony to its obvious disuse.

However, there was an actual bed resting in the corner, and even though it was extremely small, the close walls were kind of comforting. Xaphile always felt the most comfortable in enclosed places like this.

He was literally the opposite of claustrophobic.

"This is... the room you're letting me stay in?" he carefully inquired, finally looking down at her. "Are you sure it won't... cause problems?"

"Of course not," she told him kindly, giving a very bizarre and almost grandmotherly smile. "I'm a hard worker, and I earn much more coin than I spend on a regular basis thanks to my profession as an herbalist. Doing this is actually beneficial to me, in a way, since I now have a reason to use some of it."

His eyebrow twitched, and he sighed, feeling more than a little disturbed by her overly friendly behavior.

Two weeks of being so savagely abused had made him extremely wary of those around him.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" he bluntly asked, looking at her with a faint scowl. "I don't get it... you don't know me! Not even what kind of a person I am! And yet you unthinkingly invited me to LIVE with you! Isn't that a little reckless on your end?"

"Reckless?" she asked, looking very confused. "How so?"

His jaw dropped.

"Seriously?!" he scoffed, watching in disbelief as she gave a naive blink. "Look, lady! I was literally considered a monster by the people living in this freakish town only an hour ago! And why would you even offer to let a total stranger live with you?! It defies all common sense, _and_ its dangerous!"

She lifted a hand and shyly fiddled with one of her braids.

"I have absolute faith that those who are kind to others will be repaid with the same treatment," she muttered, then folded her hands with a small sigh, "but fairies are considered sacred creatures... in fact, some of the woodland Fae used to hold more political sway than the kings of old. There's even a wizard's guild named after them, believe it or not."

"Fairies aren't real, and neither are wizards!" he snapped, making her look up in shock. "Trust me, I know enough about Irish mythology to tell you I'm not a freaking fairy, and since magic doesn't exist, hello?!"

The thought of being compared to a fairy made him feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Phil, you really are a Fae," she countered, tilting her head. "If I had not bumped into lady Ella herself after leaving you and told her the truth about you, she wouldn't have set you free."

He stiffened when the reality of her words actually sank in.

Heart growing bone cold, he looked her dead in the eyes, not wanting to believe what he'd just heard.

"What are you saying?" he lowly demanded. "Answer me."

"She asked me if the Fair Folk had magic that could affect the land," Amelia explained, tilting her chin out in a somewhat stubborn manner. "According to legend, there's only one kind that does."

"Stop stalling," he deadpanned, glaring at her without blinking. "Just answer my question!"

"I told Ella what you were," she retorted, "and because of it, she let you go."

He only had one real question.

"Why?" he rasped. "Why did you do that? Didn't you listen to what I said?"

"I did," she solemnly intoned, "but Phil, you need to understand... your kind are revered as creatures so powerful that the world we walk on bows to their every whim. To do anything less than what I did would have been... very bad for our village. Especially since the forests all around us are withering to dust."

Xaphile blinked, then folded his arms, muscles rippling in the dim light.

"I don't understand any of this," he firmly explained, looking at her with tense eyes. "Where am I? Where is this place?!"

"Chisago Village," Amelia told him. "It's south of Fiore's capital city."

"Which is... where?"

"Er, well, Crocus is very, very far to the north in a valley ringed by tall mountains," she told him. "I was once told that it's by far the largest city in our country since it has a vast amount of buildings that stretch on and on in a circular formation as far as the eye can see. I have not been myself, but I mean to visit someday."

He stared blankly.

 _Where the hell am I?_ he wondered. _This isn't America, is it?_

"Our village is still fairly small right now, but we're still known for our jewelry and weapons," she added as an afterthought, "and thanks to my shop, we also have a surprisingly great magic trade due to the fact that nearest major city, Magnolia, has a powerful wizard's guild! They occasionally buy supplies from me!"

Xaphile sighed in dismay and attempted to rub the bridge of his nose, but he accidentally scratched himself with his long nail in the process.

 _Ow,_ he silently complained.

"Fair enough," he muttered aloud, rubbing the stinging scratch beside his eye with a wince. "I don't know what to think after today, anyway... I'm kind of in shock, to tell the truth. I think I'm gonna head back to my room and go to sleep... I need time to get over all this."

"I'll go draw a bath first," Amelia murmured, giving him a little bow. "No offense intended, Phil, but right now... I'm afraid you have an rather... _unpleasant_ odor."

The moment she said it, a violent shiver ran up his body, making him feel as though he would break out into hives.

"I really... _really..._ did _not_ need to hear that!" he squeaked, feeling as though little bugs were crawling all over him. "I'm a nutcase when it comes to hygiene!"

"'Tis not your fault," she sighed, patting his arm. "Two weeks without a good wash would be terrible for anyone. I'll return once the water is ready... also, those wounds on your back... I'm worried that they might be getting infected, so they'll need to be cleansed thoroughly."

Xaphile's expression went blank and he averted his eyes again, tangled black hair hiding his filthy face.

In truth, he had so much dirt and dried blood caked all over his upper torso that he was barely recognizable.

His whole body was filthy... it took everything in his power to avoid trying to dust himself off.

"Thank you," he murmured, not looking at Amelia. "I may not fully understand what's going on, but I am grateful for your kindness."

"You're welcome," she chirped, beaming at him with a bright grin. "I'll return soon."

Then she bowed again and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Xaphile leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, wondering for the millionth time how things had become so fucked up. Wherever the hell he was, it was obviously nowhere near Chicago.

Hell, for all he knew, he might have been dreaming everything.

Or perhaps this was the afterlife?

Up until this point, he'd been able to hold back his confusion and questions since everyone had been abusing him. There hadn't been time to really think about anything. He tried to stay calm and collected about the situation, but truthfully... now that things began to click with him, he was utterly terrified.

He was going nuts... that had to have been it.

When he'd shot himself in the head, he must not have died: he was probably lying in some remote hospital bed as a new human vegetable. Wherever this was, he obviously didn't belong here.

"It's just... too much to take in all at once," he muttered. "I feel like I've been tossed into a weird dream where nobody will tell me what's going on."

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Xaphile wondered how he'd gotten himself into this mess. On top of having no clue where he was, every single person either seemed to be batshit crazy or abnormally violent. Not even mentioning the bizarre changes in his body.

Lifting a hand, he examined his sharp nails and touched the scratch on his nose again, hesitantly checking for blood. However, his hands were too dirty to tell: every part of him felt disgusting.

Slowly falling over on his side, he stared at the wooden wall with blank eyes, feeling as though he had become a writhing ball of anxiety. For what felt like hours, he merely stared off into space... letting the seconds tick by one at a time. The silence was strangely peaceful.

It had an almost comforting lull to it.

His eyes began to grow heavy, and the rhythmic thrum of his heart began to fill his ears, sounding strong but strangely slow. His dazed sense of comfort was stirred by the sound of a knock on the door, followed shortly by Amelia's voice.

"Phil?" she called, carefully poking her head inside the room. "The bath is ready..."

"Coming," he grunted, laboriously getting to his feet and slinking past the girl, who eyed the haystack he called hair with something close to distaste. When he was led down another hall and into another room, he found himself staring at a huge marble tub connected to some kind of heated aqueduct.

It was full of hot water, and it looked so inviting that he actually relaxed a little.

"There's soap on the shelf over there," she explained, pointing at the far side of the wall; he blinked when he realized the bathroom had no sink or toilet. "I've left a drying cloth on the floor beside the door. When you're finished, wrap it around your waist. I'm afraid those trousers you're wearing have been so damaged by your ordeal that you won't be able to wear them again."

Xaphile winced, feeling a little guilty.

"Really?" he asked, giving her a sullen look. "That's not exactly comforting, since these pants don't even belong to me."

"Eh?" she asked, looking genuinely startled. "Who do they belong to?"

"A man named Octavius Macintosh," he explained, shaking his head. "He's the one who brought me here."

Her worried face instantly relaxed.

"Oh... well, don't worry, then," she soothed, waving an amused hand. "Old Gus is a sweetheart, so I'm sure he won't be bothered. Knowing him, he'll probably just be glad that you're still alive. I have a very big suspicion that he's actually grown a little attached to you."

"It's not so much attachment as it is a guilty conscience," Xaphile sourly muttered. "Anyway, I'd like to get in the bath now."

"Oh, by all means," she stated, waving a hand and giving him an airy smile. "The water is warm and ready!"

For a long moment, he stared at her and waited for her to leave.

Eventually he quirked an eyebrow since she merely continued standing in place, hands primly clasped in front of her.

"Unless things here are totally uncivilized," he finally drawled, folding his arms, "shouldn't it be obvious that I can't yet?"

"You can't?" Amelia asked, looking at him with an expression of innocent naivety. "Why not?"

Xaphile gawked at her, then abruptly gestured down at himself with an incredulous expression.

"Um, hello?!" he squeaked, patting the tattered trousers with a bright red face. "I'm a boy, and you're a girl! I'm not stripping in front of you!"

Amelia blinked rapidly behind her glasses as she processed what he was getting at.

Then she stiffened and _also_ turned bright red, looking flustered.

Letting out an embarrassed squeal, she flailed her arms and abruptly covered her eyes with both hands.

"Deepest apologies!" she cried, whirling around and attempting to run out of the room; he jumped when she ran into the wall instead, but not long after, she felt her way to the door. "I am sorry! I am not used to being around boys... I am so very sorry."

When she slammed the door, the sound was obnoxiously loud.

 _That girl is something else,_ he silently muttered, letting out a deep sigh before looking down at himself. _Then again... right now, I have no room to talk._

Once he was sure she wouldn't come back in, he unfastened the front of the trousers and carefully peeled them away from his skin.

He nearly forgot about his new tail being strung through the hole Gus had ripped into the back of them, but at the last second he felt a kink and carefully took the time to tug the damn thing free.

Dropping his drawers like a wild child, he hastily ran over to the shelf with the bar of soap and practically lunged into the extravagant bathtub with it. Shaking violently, he started scrubbing himself madly, feeling thoroughly disgusted when the water around him clouded up with reddish brown dirt. Once his entire body was clean, he dunked his head under the water and lathered the soap into his hair, keeping his eyes closed.

The horns sticking out of his skull made the process feel weird to him, but he ignored the extreme discomfort that settled into his belly.

 _Maybe I really am a demon now,_ he silently muttered, shuddering before his hands slowed with the washing. His fingers moved to his new horns, and he tentatively touched them, feeling them with his eyes squeezed shut. _This is unbelievable..._

They felt thick near the base of his skull, progressively growing pointier near the tips, and from what he could feel they were curved like a bull's horns. They blended in with his skin near his scalp.

With yet another shudder, he began rinsing his hair out.

And as he did so, he once again felt the strangeness of his ears and paused.

Soft fur met his fingertips, once again bewildering him with the oddness of it all.

Leaning back and staring at the ceiling, he tried to process it all.

"So... I've sprouted fur on my back, my pubes have gone crazy on me, and I now have chest hair, a tail, fangs, horns, claws, and what feel to me like furry elf ears," he muttered, rubbing his face with a large hand and letting out a sigh. "This is seriously messed up. What the fuck went wrong with my body?"

He didn't know the answer to that question, but he had a feeling it had happened only because he'd killed himself. That alone was the only reason why he couldn't and wouldn't complain.

These changes were likely a result of what he'd done to himself.

Feeling disgruntled, he dunked his head under water and let himself soak, feeling as though he'd scrubbed himself raw. He'd even gone as far as washing his tail and most of the strange black fur that now stretched down his spine. But eventually, he stood up and shook himself free of the water.

Dripping, he walked over to the cloth lying on the ground and used it to rub himself dry, feeling relief flooding through him at the sensation of being clean again. After toweling off, he wrapped the cloth around his waist and slicked his hair back to keep it out of his eyes. Then he walked over to the door and opened it, peering out into the hall. Amelia was waiting not too far away, holding some sort of strange-looking white rope.

"What's that?" he suspiciously asked, making her jump. "You're not... planning on tying me up, are you?"

"No, no, not at all!" she squealed, flailing her arms again. "It's a _measuring_ rope! I need it to take measurements of your body!"

He instantly narrowed his eyes, not understanding why she would want to do such a thing.

"Why?" he demanded, feeling abnormally wary. "What do you need measurements for?"

"Clothes," she told him, blinking. "Since you don't have any of your own, I'm going to have some made for you. To do that, I need your measurements."

He furrowed his brows, realizing that if he truly was in a primitive place, getting clothes definitely wouldn't be as easy as going to a store with specific sizes.

"Fine," he muttered, hesitantly stepping out into the hall and firmly holding the cloth around his waist. "Just... be careful."

He watched as she stepped forward, holding the rope out with a nervous expression.

She was obviously feeling just as awkward as he was.

With almost hesitant motions, Amelia wrapped it around his waist just above the edge of the drying cloth, then looked closely at the side. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensations, but once she finished measuring his waist, she moved onto his chest, and then his arms.

After a moment, she poked him with a small finger.

"Could you possibly kneel down so I can measure your shoulders and neck?" Amelia hesitantly asked, looking up at him with a timid expression. "Please?"

Xaphile wordlessly did as he was asked, carefully sliding down to his knees. He tried not to flinch when she moved behind him and set the rope across his shoulders, warm hands moving his long, damp hair to the side as she did so. She paused when she saw the scabs from being lashed, and for a moment she didn't move... but then, her fingers lightly combed through the strange furry mane running down his spine. He immediately stiffened since a flash of pain seared through the skin beneath it.

"Ow," he deadpanned, keeping his face blank by habit. "That hurts."

She squeaked, jerking her hand back.

"M-my apologies," Amelia stammered, lifting the rope and using it to measure his throat. "I-I couldn't help myself... I've never seen anyone quite like you before, and I gave into temptation. The hair on your back... it's almost like that of an animal's, and it's very peculiar."

"Not as peculiar as my tail," Xaphile muttered; as if to enunciate that statement, the freakish appendage thumped against the floor and started sweeping against her ankles, making her twitch. "Trust me... the hair and everything else I can handle, but the tail... I don't like it."

"I think it's rather amusing," she admitted, looking down at the lion-like thing with wide eyes. "You're like a big cat... it's strange, but interesting."

"Until you realize it's actually a part of you," he droned, feeling a little bemused himself. "Then it's not so interesting. Just very, very strange."

She giggled, smiling in genuine relief as the tension between them diffused a bit.

With gentle hands, she removed the rope, but her cheerful expression faded when she looked at his back again. All across it were horrible-looking scabs and scarred flesh, a testimony to Ella's brutality.

"I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us," Amelia sadly murmured, touching a specific spot beneath his right shoulder blade and gently brushing other spots along his back. "These wounds are terrible... I _would_ try healing them, but Ella's demon-slayer magic would prevent me from trying."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, not really caring either way.

"It means," Amelia whispered, letting out a sigh, "that her weapons are specifically designed to prevent creatures from being able to heal themselves, be it by natural ability or and outside magical influence. But at this point, the damage has already been done. These lash wounds are going to leave scars everywhere..."

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, feeling absolutely nothing. "I don't care if they scar up."

"Do you want me to _try_ healing them?" she asked, biting her lip. "Even if I do, and it somehow works, I won't be able to prevent these wounds from scarring up... but, in the end, you'll hurt just a little bit less."

He didn't look at her.

"Let nature take it's course," he finally muttered. "Don't worry yourself over me."

She winced slightly at his tone, then reluctantly nodded.

"If that is what you wish," Amelia sighed, patting his arm. "Now, I want you to measure your upper legs and both of your feet for me. I understand that this might be uncomfortable, so I'll turn around while you do so... but unless you want breeches and shoes that don't exactly fit you, this is necessary."

"How?" he asked, finally getting to his feet and cracking his back with a wince. "I'm not exactly sure how to use this measuring thing."

"Oh, it's quite simple!" she explained, holding the rope up and tapping several small symbols that had been embroidered into it. "Wrap this rope around each leg: then, when the edge connects with a particular symbol, tell me what it is and we'll have your measurements."

Then she handed him the rope and pointedly turned around, covering both of her eyes.

"Okay, let's do this," he muttered, lifting the towel and doing as she asked; once he'd measured both of his upper thighs, he bent over and did the same with his feet. Once he had the symbols, he turned around and tapped her arm. "I'm finished, I think."

"Symbols?" she asked, looking at the rope when he pointed.

"This one was for my upper legs," he calmly told her, then shifted his finger, "and these two were for my feet, width and length."

Her eyebrows rose.

"I forgot to mention feet required two measurements, but it seems you realized it yourself," she murmured, lifting her eyes with a grin. "That's pretty impressive."

"What will I do until those clothes you mentioned are made?" he asked, tilting his head and looking down at himself. "I can't exactly... run around in the nude."

"I think I have some clothes that used to belong to my father stored away in a trunk somewhere," Amelia told him, tossing one of her braids over her shoulder before turning and hurrying off down the hall. "Wait there... I'll see what I can scrounge up."

After she ran off, Xaphile rubbed his face, feeling bizarrely tired.

However, much to his surprise, she wasn't gone for long at all... but when she came back, she was holding some very strange-looking clothes indeed.

Blinking rapidly, he watched as she wordlessly held out the azure trousers and...

"A dress?" he asked, giving her a disbelieving look. "Isn't that a girl's outfit?"

"No, silly!" she laughed, shaking her head. "These are _robes_! My papa was a famous wizard, so he always dressed really flashy like this! Try them on! I'm pretty sure the pants are a little too short for someone with such a tall stature, but they'll fit you width-wise at the very least. Oh, and I also made an adjustment to the rear for your tail... I'm sure Papa won't mind."

When he took the clothes, they felt soft like satin.

Blinking rapidly, he tilted his head and looked down at her, catlike eyes drilling into the little brunette's face.

"Thank you," he stated firmly, turning away and walking back into the bathroom. "I appreciate everything you've done for me."

This, at the very least, was true.

He didn't understand _why_ she was doing all of this for him, but he was indeed grateful for it. Dropping the towel on the floor beside the tattered leather pants Gus had given him weeks ago, he shrugged the silken blue breeches on and shivered a little, since the sensation reminded him of dressing up in a suit.

Fastening the front of the trousers, he looked down at his legs and winced, since she hadn't been kidding: apparently, her father had been just as short as she was, since the pants ended just above his shin bones.

 _Well, at least they're soft,_ he silently muttered, unfolding the dusty 'robe' and carefully tugging it over his head, being mindful of his horns. Once it was on, he glanced down at himself. The 'robe' ended near his knees, but the sleeves were so long that they hung past his hands.

"Bizarre style," he muttered, dusting the sky blue clothes off with a frown, "but its better than being naked."

Fully dressed, he padded back out into the hall.

Amelia instantly covered her mouth, face turning bright red.

"W-well, now!" she eventually squeaked out, obviously fighting back a hysterical fit of laughter. "It's not a perfect fit, but you somehow managed to make it work rather well! It looks good on you!"

He regarded her with half-lidded eyes.

"Uh-huh," he sarcastically drawled, looking down at himself. "Yeah, sure it does."

"Oh, don't be so pessimistic," she choked, finally bursting into a fit of giggles. "Really, it _does_ look good on you! Better than it did on my father, at the very least!"

"Is that supposed to be flattering?" he questioned, long ears involuntarily drooping. "Why did your dad wear clothes like this if it he knew they made him look weird?"

"My father is rather eccentric and a little strange," Amelia weakly admitted, then beamed proudly, "but everyone still respects him because he's both a sweetheart AND a powerful magic user from Fairy Tail! One of the best, in my opinion! He even worked for the king himself as a court wizard, long ago!"

"Well, where is he?" Xaphile asked, glancing around with a fleeting expression of curiosity. "You said you live alone, right?"

Her face immediately fell and she averted her eyes, looking a little downcast.

"He... he went missing on a job years ago," she stated quietly, shaking her head with a smile. "A lot of Fairy Tail members are still out looking for him, and I get regular visits from the guild master, so I'm never truly alone here. I really miss him, but I know he'll return someday. After all, Fairy Tail is famous for never giving up on their own!"

Xaphile's ears twitched involuntarily upon hearing that. He didn't know what was going on... but one thing was slowly becoming obvious. This place, wherever it was, had a very different sense of reality than where he'd been born and raised.

"May I... go to sleep now?" he asked, giving her a weary look. "I'm... tired."

Her eyes instantly softened and she stepped forward, setting a hand on his arm.

"Of course... after the horrible ordeals you've gone through, you deserve rest," she murmured, turning away and heading down the hall. "It's still rather early in the day for me, however, so I'm afraid I'll be busy making poultices and medicine until later this evening. If you need anything at all, I'll be in the kitchen. Sleep well."

He watched her go with a blank face... but the moment she was out of sight, his shoulders sagged and his eyes turned hollow again. Swiveling around, he stumbled down the hall towards the strange room he'd been given and walked inside it, quietly closing the door.

He turned and was about to flop down on the bed... but a crude-looking pink crystal that was literally hovering above the nightstand caught his attention since it was reflecting his image like a mirror.

He immediately froze when he noticed something odd, staring at himself in disbelief.

Slowly creeping forward, he peered into the freakish crystal more closely. Lifting his hands, he touched the horns on his head... but his reflection didn't have them.

 _What the hell?_ he wondered, frowning; moving his hair to the side, he looked at his ears in the mirror, and much to his surprise... they were normal. _What is this?_

Hit by an unexpected fit of worry, he lifted the robes he'd been given and exposed the thick black streak of fur rising up from out of his trousers to his chest, then looked at the mirror with a shiver. Smooth, pale muscles met his gaze in the reflection... it was how he'd looked before pulling the trigger.

There was no doubt that the reflection was his own... but once again, like everything else, what he was seeing with his own two eyes didn't make any sense whatsoever. Reflections were supposed to reflect things the way they were, not show a completely different version of something.

This was a very strange sensation, and it was thoroughly dislikable for him.

Exhausted by the fact that nothing made any sense, Xaphile sat down on the small bed and set his head on the pillow. The mattress had been stuffed full of some sort of straw, and the pillow was roughly made of the same coarse fabric with plenty of said straw. But it was softer than the metal floor of the cage he'd been stuck in, so he didn't care.

Closing his eyes, he slowly curled up.

The only sound that came after that was a single tear dripping onto the pillow.

All was silent.


	12. Chapter 12: Bargain

**Chapter Eleven: Bargain**

 _The dream had come again._ _The same disjointed dream that had appeared to him every night, since the moment Ella had been taken from him... he could hear the singing voices... could see bits and pieces of color... then bright lights... and smiling faces._

 _Dancing... a play_.

 _He was just starting to see the wavering images... they were clearing up... and the muffled sound of the music was starting to make sense. But_ _before it could happen... before he could finally see the dream, just like always, a scream of terror broke through the muffled voices, clear as a bell._

 _H_ _e heard the unmistakable sound_ _of gunfire._

 _More screams broke through, each sounding different._ _Then, as it always did... the small dream world abruptly imploded, twisting into a gnarled blood stain that crumpled towards him in an unbelievably rapid manner. Concrete covered in blood closing in on him from every direction._

 _Then... nothing._

 _There was only darkness left behind._

 _The inside of his heart... beating slower and slower... red... all over his hands, and..._

"No!" Xaphile spat, forcibly dragging his brain out of the nightmare and bolting upright. "Shit!"

His long hair was plastered to his skin and he was breathing heavily, muscles quivering.

 _I hate this,_ he silently muttered, rubbing his face. _Fucking nightmares..._

Blinking the spots in his vision away, he realized that his ears were ringing. Xaphile slowly rubbed his aching head, trying to figure out where he was. His brain felt strangely fuzzy... almost as though his thoughts had been muffled with a blanket of cotton or elastic tape. Nothing seemed to make much sense to him.

This wasn't his bedroom... or a cage...

It took a moment for it to come back, but once it did, a surge of depression washed over him and he buried his face in his hands, fighting back an extremely powerful urge to start crying.

Only one thought came to him as he sat there.

 _I want to leave,_ he realized, quivering all over. _I want to get away from this place._

For several moments, he merely sat there... but then, before he could stop himself, he slid out of bed and walked over to the door, gently opening it and peering out into the hall. Everything was dark, but after a moment his pupils expanded and his vision cleared up in a fairly startling manner. The light in the hall almost seemed to be adjusting itself, which was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen.

He didn't know what time it was, but it was obviously dark outside since none of the windows he passed in the hall were radiating light. Feeling a little disoriented, he made his way towards the only source of light he could see, which was coming from the kitchen. Upon entering the room, he spotted Amelia sitting in a rocking chair in front of a fireplace with an open book in her lap.

She was breathing deeply and evenly, head tilted back and long-lashed eyes closed.

For a long moment, he merely looked at her.

Wondering about several things.

She obviously didn't have a clue just how simple her life was.

In fact, nobody around him knew how easy they had it.

And sometimes, he really wished he didn't, either.

Feeling a little guilty for running out on her after everything she'd done, he made his way over to the chair.

"You really are too nice," he muttered, carefully kneeling down and folding the corner of the page she'd been on before shutting it and setting it on the mantle. "I'm grateful to you... I truly am. Thank you for your kindness, and everything you've done for me... but... I can't... deal with this place anymore. Sorry."

With a solemn expression, he took off the robe she'd given him and carefully folded it up before setting it on the ground beside the chair. He looked down at his legs, debating on what to do about the pants, but in the end he decided to keep them out of necessity.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked towards the front door and opened it before slowly stepping outside.

A gentle breeze swept his hair around when he moved onto the cobblestone.

High above, storm clouds had obscured the stars, and an occasional flash of lightning lit up the sky.

It wasn't raining, but it smelled like it was going to sometime soon.

He paid no heed to his surroundings when he began to walk. His tail flicked behind him as he followed the wall surrounding the village, figuring it would take him straight to the exit. The streets were silent... it was probably later than he'd realized, since every single window was dark. He passed old stone houses, feeling as if he'd somehow gone back in time to Old England, when Jack the Ripper still roamed London's streets.

His winding path took him through alleys and across old crumbling roads.

But eventually, he made it to what looked like exit.

It was a huge wooden drawbridge that had been raised high.

Directly in front of it, the same group of guards who'd repeatedly brutalized him were clustered together in front of an enormous portcullis big enough for two semi trucks to drive through at the same time, and all of them seemed to be having a hushed conversation about something he couldn't hear.

He figured it would be smarter if he looked for another way out, so he warily turned around to get the fuck out of dodge, but just as he was about to bolt, he heard one of them say Ella's name. He paused, blinking, then tilted his head when he heard her name spoken yet again.

Curiosity got the better of him then.

Swallowing hard, he slid close to the wall of a nearby building and slinked towards them in the shadows, and when their conversation soon began to make sense in his ears, he squatted in the dark and listened carefully.

"I just don't think it was a good idea, Captain," one of the men hissed. "Our Lady must be mad! If the beast really _is_ a surviving Fae, isn't that even _more_ of a reason to _kill_ the creature?! After what we did to it, we could all count our blessings if we escape with our lives!"

"Lady Ellameira's word is final," the helmeted male grunted, disdainfully tying something down near the edge of the bridge. "The Countess may be young, but she's a fearsome warrior, and she's got a damn good head on her shoulders _despite_ her age."

"Captain, she's not even a woman yet," another guard muttered. "And if you haven't forgotten, ten years ago... she was the one who-"

Before he could finish, the Captain whirled around and punched him so hard in the mouth that he fell over.

Xaphile's shoulders tensed when he glared through the helm.

"A grown man attempting to condemn a five-year-old little girl for simply loving the world and all its creatures... you're despicable, Vex," the captain coldly informed him, gently waving his hand and disdainfully looking away. "Don't speak ill of her. No matter what your thoughts are, she's still Lord Byron's only daughter, and you _will_ show her the respect she is _due_."

"But no matter how you look at it, its true!" the fallen guard snarled, angrily getting back up and rubbing his jaw. "How do you know she isn't doing it again, Angelo?!"

"You're a fickle man, Vex," the captain growled, going back to the rope. "What makes you think Ella would make that mistake twice? I've met grown men with only a speck of the courage that little girl has inside her. Put faith in her choice... if she set the creature free, she had a reason."

"But Captain, after what we did to it, will things truly be okay?!" another guard spluttered. "If it doesn't forgive us, the forest... everything! He'll make it all perish just to spite us!"

"That boy isn't stupid enough to damn all of the forests south of the Nimikan Border," Angelo grunted back, narrowing his eyes with a disgusted expression. "Especially since they have bloomed so beautifully _only_ because he was hiding within them."

All of the guards stared at him.

"What are you saying?" one of them inquired, scratching at his rugged beard. "Fae are rare enough as it is, but sprites are really the only Fae with elemental magic. And anyway, aren't they all supposedly dead and gone?"

The Captain paused, then finished tying the rope he'd been working on and stood up.

"Are you daft?" Angelo ground out, folding his metal-plated arms. "What kind of inquiry is that? Have all of you oafs forgotten who represents each major branch of magical power within Earthland?"

"Of course not!" Vex snapped, clenching his fists.

"Then what are they?" the captain demanded, making every single one of them pause. "Tell me."

"The Ten Wizard Saints," one of the guards hesitantly said, "the Magic Council... the Demon Slayers... the Guilds across Earthland... and... the Queens of the Eastern Skies."

"Indeed," Angelo confirmed, giving a firm nod, "and if you recall, the Queens of the East are actually rumored to be the same species as the boy we captured and tortured."

Faces turned pale all around upon hearing that.

"But Captain," Vex reluctantly growled, "access to the Eastern lands has very nearly been cut off from the rest of the country. Commoners are not allowed there by the Magic Council's decree, and there has been absolutely no word from anyone within in over a hundred years! Nobody knows if those who dwell there are Fae or Human because nobody has ever seen them!"

"Don't be a fool," Angelo grunted, "the faeries of the east _and_ the north are still very much alive and breathing. If they weren't, Calcoon's forests would have withered long ago, and the capital would have met the same fate."

"So what?!" Vex snapped, straightening up like a washboard. "What does any of this have to do with that creature? It obviously isn't from the east OR the north! It's from here, the South! I simply don't understand... why can't we just _kill_ it?"

" _Silence,_ " Angelo coldly commanded, making Xaphile's scalp prickle. "Hold your tongue and reign in your thirst for the Fae's blood. The Fair Folk are sacred creatures... and if Lady Ella is correct, that _thing_ is so powerful it could probably destroy this whole village with nothing but a sweep of its hand. There is a reason the strongest Mages Guild in Fiore named themselves after the Fairies, you idiot!"

A chilling silence followed his words.

"What?" Vex whispered, sounding thoroughly alarmed. "Captain, can it really be so powerful?!"

Angelo took his helmet off and shook his dark blonde hair free.

"Lady Ella, and even my old friend Octavius Macintosh, seem to think the creature we tortured is the last primordial sprite of the Southern Forests," he muttered, glaring at the dirt. "If this is truly the case... it means that up until this point, that _beast_ is the _only_ reason our lands haven't turned to dust."

After he said it, a distant peal of thunder split the air, giving his words an ominous undertone.

"What?" a guard breathed as it finally began to dawn on them. "You aren't saying..."

"I am," Angelo confirmed, meeting his gaze head on. "That creature has been keeping all of the forests in the south alive _by himself._ That's why you cannot kill him. If he is truly the last, he is the _only_ thing that stands between us and _destruction_."

When gasps filled the air all around, Xaphile felt bile rising up his throat.

If what he'd just heard was the truth... killing himself a second time would...

 _I have to get out of here,_ he realized, heart beginning to pound. _I can't stay... I don't want to hear anymore._

Feeling his anxiety spiking, he stood up and began to back away from the guards.

But before he could slip out of sight, he bumped into someone.

"Eh?" a familiar voice snorted, making him whirl around; he winced when he found himself staring into a familiar set of jade green eyes. "What are you-?!"

"Shh..." Xaphile hissed, clutching Gus's arm and fearfully looking over his shoulder. "Be quiet!"

Once he was sure the guards hadn't heard them, he hurried past the blonde man, keeping very close to the wall. His tail flicked in agitation as he stalked through the streets with the blonde following at a careful distance. Once they'd gotten far enough away from the guards to feel comfortable, Xaphile turned around.

"What are you doing prowling around at night?" Gus demanded, looking down at him with a frown. "You only just got released... the last thing you need to be doing is raising any unnecessary suspicions."

Xaphile merely looked at him.

"I want to leave," he quietly admitted, lowering his eyes to the ground; a cold wind swept through his long hair as he spoke. "I want... to get as far away from here as I can. I was looking for a way out of the city."

Gus scowled and stalked forward, gripping his arms so tightly that it actually hurt. Xaphile's eyes widened when he was forcibly shoved against the brick wall, but instead of struggling, he merely stared at the blonde.

"The forests are dying because of you," Octavius growled. "I paid my debt by helping you regain your freedom, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you destroy the lives of thousands because of your own personal issues."

"I want to leave," Xaphile blankly retorted. "Let go."

"I won't let you run away," Gus hissed, leaning close to his face. "If you do, I'll put an arrow in your back. I swear it. The moment you try and leave this town... I'll kill you."

"Good," Xaphile quietly chuckled, giving him a smile that wasn't all there. "That's kinda what I want."

The man's face went white and he immediately closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he fought back his temper. Xaphile blinked when he finally opened them again. With his lips pressed together, the man abruptly clutched his throat with both hands and started squeezing tightly.

"Do you really want to die that badly?" Gus growled, clenching harder and scowling darkly when he waited with no expression. "Tell me."

"Yes, I do," Xaphile wheezed, dark hair falling across his eyes as he was strangled. "Finish what the bitch with my girlfriend's face couldn't, by all means."

Gus's face twitched and his grip slackened, looking somewhat disturbed by the strangeness of the response.

"You... you can't be serious!" he spluttered. "What are you saying? What about your responsibility?!"

Xaphile slowly lifted his eyes.

"Fuck responsibility," he spat, momentarily gritting his sharp teeth in fury. "I have no ties to this place. It can rot off the face of the planet for all I care."

The moment he said it, his irises once again began to radiate an aquamarine luminescence, glowing dimly with a shifting opalescent hue. Gus instantly let go of him, face turning white.

"Don't say that," the man whispered, horrified face being illuminated by a flash of lightning that streaked through the air overhead. "Don't..."

"Why? You want to delude yourself into thinking I give a shit about the people here?" Xaphile inquired, blankly tilting his head; his eyes shone brighter and his pupils contracted into thin slits when he sneered. "I don't care what your thoughts on it are. I've come to think of this place as being _worse_ than hell."

"You would risk meeting death on that alone?" Gus snapped. "Do you have no self-awareness when it concerns your own life?"

"Oh, I do... I just don't care," Xaphile callously informed him. "I have no problem dying if it means I can actually get away from this nightmare you call home, so if you want to shoot me in the back with an arrow, hit me with your best shot. After all, no matter what you decide to do, I'll get what I want in the end."

"And, what _do_ you want?"

The look Xaphile sent his way could have curdled the blood of a sociopathic serial killer: with glowing eyes that were equal parts crazed and agonized, he gave a weak little smile that mismatched the torturous emotional storm going on within his irises.

"Death," he said simply. "I'm tired of suffering. So I'm going to stop suffering. End of story."

Before Gus could say anything else, he swept past him, long hair swirling in the rising wind. The blonde slowly turned to look at his broad shoulders as he walked away, jade green eyes blank with dread.

High above, lightning flashed violently with deafening crack.

"What have we done?" he whispered, lifting his eyes to the frothing heavens when the first raindrop landed on his nose. "What in the name of Divinity have we done...?"

There was no answer.

Xaphile stomped around the corner of a nearby building, shaking his head rapidly and clenching his jaw in fury. He was angry... so unbearably angry... the fear, the anguish, the confusion, it was all becoming an awful pressure that continued to build inside him, tearing into the remains of his soul.

He couldn't keep it locked away: he stopped still in the center of the street and his face twisted.

The rain really began to come down as he stood there, quickly becoming drenched in icy water.

Taking a deep breath, he tensed his muscles and arched his back, letting out a powerful scream of agony and rage. The sound came out sounding more like a lion's roar and it echoed for what seemed like miles. After he finished, he fell to his knees, staring at the pouring sky.

He closed his eyes and let the rain wash across his face.

He would have given anything just to be able to fly away like a bird... to escape from everything. Slowly lifting his hand, he reached for the clouds, feeling brittle from the inside out and simply waiting for the anger he'd been feeling to continue holding his heart together. However, no more anger came.

In fact, nothing did: there was nothing he could use as a shield now.

Ella was gone.

And he had killed himself.

This was his hell... the one place where he'd be more miserable than the night she'd died in his arms.

A world where they'd never met.

His shoulders heaved as he fought the tears back, but he couldn't stop them... they came roaring out of his eyes and ran down his face with the rain. Clutching himself, he shrank down and wept. Weakly, hoarsely, he cried his eyes out so much that all he could do was press his forehead against the ground.

"Ella..." he choked. "Ella... Ella... _Ella..._ "

But no matter how many times he called, she would never hear.

He had tried to tell himself it was enough just to see her alive and breathing... hell, he had even told her that, too... but in the end, it wasn't. It was nowhere near enough. What was left of his heart was cracking.

Right down the middle.

And as it was doing so, she appeared: with a flash, she ran around the corner wearing that familiar black cloak, two daggers already drawn. She looked ready for trouble and her mouth was tight with tension, but she skidded to a halt when she saw him kneeling in the rain. Taking note of his position, her tense posture faltered a little... then, pink eyes narrowing, she sheathed her daggers.

"What are you doing?!" she barked, folding her arms. "Get up! Now!"

Her voice was what broke him completely.

The moment she spoke, the world went silent in his ears.

There was no more rainfall.

There was no more wind rushing through the trees.

There was no more anything.

Everything fell dead silent.

In that small moment of time, there was no sound.

That is, aside from a young man's already busted heart breaking into a million pieces yet again and tinkling down into darkness like bits of broken glass. Lifting his eyes, he stared at her in a way that made her freeze.

"Please..." Xaphile whispered, looking straight into her pale pink eyes. "Set me free."

She blinked, mouth falling open when he lifted his violently shaking hand and held it out to her.

"Are you mad?!" she snapped, finally coming to her senses. "I've _already_ set you free! Daft oaf!"

Closing his eyes and letting his hand fall limply to his side, Xaphile wordlessly stood up and turned around, meandering off in a random direction. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he care... at this point, he only wanted someone to make him disappear.

It was ironic, really.

The one thing he'd always hated growing up was being invisible to those around him. Now he'd have given anything to be able to sink into the shadows of some remote place and never come out again.

"Where are you going?!" the girl barked, stomping her foot. "Don't you turn your back on me!"

"Go away," he croaked, not even having the energy to talk back. "You are literally the last person I want to see right now."

She snapped her mouth shut and bristled with fury, face turning bright red. His footsteps halted only when her small, familiar hand snatched his wrist, preventing him from going anywhere.

"Foolish creature!" she snarled, jerking him around and shoving him back a step. "How dare you?! What right do you have to try telling me to go away?!"

He looked at her with eyes that vaguely reminded her of an abandoned kitten's.

"I have every right, since my current state of mind is your fault," he told her, not breaking eye contact. "You have her face... you have her eyes... her voice, her hair, her body... you even have the same fucking mole above your lip. But you're not her... you're not my Ella."

Her mouth twisted and she tensed, nose wrinkling with outrage. Taking a step forward, she shoved him with all of her strength, knocking him so off balance that he fell to the ground.

He landed in a puddle with a wet splat.

"Of course I'm not!" she snapped, folding her arms. "I don't even know what _your_ Ella saw in you, but whatever it was, she was a fool for it... a weak creature like yourself has no right to address me so familiarly. Not even if you ARE the last sprite of the south!"

He sat there, face completely hidden by his soaked black hair. It was so long that even when he was sitting up like that, it brushed against the ground. She sneered at him in disgust when he refused to respond.

"You know what?" she sweetly trilled, voice laced with honey-coated venom. "If you want to die, go ahead. Kill yourself. I won't shed a tear. Unlike that foolish girl you loved, I could never love a _freak_... _especially_ since I hate everything that has to do with _cats_."

When he still didn't respond, she lost her temper and drew one of her daggers.

Sneering, she tossed it to the ground in front of him, watching as his head lifted to look at it.

But she wasn't expecting it when it happened.

Instead of continuing the self-pity act, he lifted his eyes all the way.

And he was smiling.

Not brokenly, like she'd seen up to this point: it was a genuine grin, one of the lopsided and dopey variety. And somehow, Even though his bright blue-green eyes were still full of tears, they'd softened immensely. She blinked at that goofy, startlingly handsome smile and backed off a step, not knowing how to react to it.

"Yeah, I am pretty weak, huh?" he laughed, hiccuping a bit; the tears welling up slid off his lashes when he lowered his head again, shoulders shaking. "That's what happens when something is broken, though. It turns frail, and it just keeps getting easier and easier to continue breaking it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, looking down at his trembling form as that strange unidentifiable fear filled her heart for the second time; her hands twitched in alarm when he clasped the dagger. "You can't... seriously be thinking about... killing yourself, right?"

When he lifted his head, the tears were already blending in with the rain running across his skin.

"I don't think of it that way," he whispered, clutching the knife with shaking fists; then he gave her that same, lopsided grin... only now, his gaze seemed faraway, as though he were looking at something past her. "I've lost my other half. My heart. All I need to do is set myself free of this body and then I can start looking for her. Thank you for the dagger."

When he stood up and turned to walk away from her again, her alarm skyrocketed.

Lips parting slightly, she watched him stumble away, hands twitching violently.

She suddenly had a very bizarre urge to run to him... to pin him down and prevent him from disappearing from her sight. But some cold, icy sensation was stopping her from moving... it wouldn't let her do anything. Her eyebrow twitched and her face grew taut, pink eyes huge.

Someone suddenly shoved her forward so hard that she stumbled.

Whirling around, she opened her mouth to snap at the person who'd pushed her...

Only to come face to face with herself.

Literally.

She gasped and her eyes widened in sheer terror.

A glowing girl who looked exactly like her was standing not even a foot away from her.

"What the heck?!" Ella yelped, stepping backwards and rapidly drawing her other dagger. "What _are_ you?! Tell me what you are! You can't be real! You look like me, but you're not!"

The moment she spoke, the bizarre apparition lifted her hand and pointed at the retreating boy with a menacing expression, silver braids billowing around like glossy white ropes.

A voiceless whisper reverberated inside her head.

 _"If you let him die... you'll regret it forever."_

The words were so powerful and threatening that Ella shivered violently.

Heart pounding a mile a minute, she backed off a step, but the apparition flashed closer.

The ghostly doppelganger stopped with her nose resting only an inch from her own.

Glaring deep into her eyes through a pair of half-moon spectacles.

Ella felt the spirit's animosity towards her as clear as any day.

Then those ghostly eyes flitted past her and locked onto Xaphile... but when they did, the spirit's face momentarily contorted with an anguished expression, and she lifted a hand, pointing at him.

 _"Go."_

It was the simplest command anyone had ever given her.

But for some reason, the weight of it nearly paralyzed her with fright. Even though she was normally never scared of anything, that single word instilled in her a dread that she couldn't ignore. She felt as though something very, very bad would befall her if she didn't comply with the ghost's wishes.

The apparition continued pointing at his unsteady form for several more moments before vanishing. There was no sound or even any sign to mark her disappearance: the strange glow merely winked out and Ella blinked, feeling a case of the cold shakes washing over her.

Eyes blank, she whirled around and chased the Xaphile down.

She hadn't believed him... she'd thought the images inside the locket had been made with Illusion magic. After all, his story wasn't possible... but the proof had been right in front of her. With a snarl, she tackled him from behind with all of her strength and the dagger clattered across the cobblestone.

They landed hard.

"What are you doing?!" he cried, wincing as his cheek was forced against the wet stone. "Get off me!"

"No!" she reluctantly spat. "You said you were broken! Things that are broken can be fixed, you idiot!"

He instantly stopped flailing and his muscles went limp beneath her fingertips.

"I'm not something anyone can fix," he quietly informed her, deep voice vibrating her limbs. "Get off me."

"NO!" Ella snapped, still trembling violently. "There might be a way to help you! I-I just saw _your_ Ella!"

He tensed, then let out an animalistic growl that came from deep within his throat.

"Excuse me?" he demanded in a low voice. "Are you trying to fuck with my head?"

"Would I be SHAKING if I was telling a falsehood?!" she cried, looking down at her trembling hands in sheer disgust. "What I just saw terrified me all the way down to my core! The moment you turned to walk away, I actually saw _your_ Ella's _ghost_ for a few moments! Now, while I still don't fully trust you, perhaps... perhaps there's a way to fix things!"

"Fine," he growled, making her wince. "I'll humor you. How do you think you can fix things?"

"I just saw my own ghost right in front of my eyes," Ella snapped, tightening her grip on his shoulders, "and since whoever that was isn't the real me, it changes everything! If she really is dead, it might be possible restore her memories inside my own mind. We would need to find a powerful Mage capable of necromancy _and_ dream walking... but there might just be a way for me to recollect the memories of that _other_ me."

"What the hell are you saying?" Xaphile demanded, tail thumping violently against her back when it lashed out in agitation. "A powerful mage? Dream walking? Necromancy?! What the hell are you talking about?! How the hell can your make-believe crap fix anything?! It all sounds like a load of _shit_ to me!"

Her mouth curled in fury.

"Shut up!" she snapped, angrily smacking his head. "I may be many things, but a liar isn't one of them!"

"Oh, that's funny!" he barked, letting out a harsh laugh. "Here you are saying you want to fix me, but I guess I can't believe that, can I? I mean, I thought you _enjoyed_ watching me _writhe_ in _agony_!"

To have her own words thrown in her face like that was the most unpleasant experience she'd had in a while.

She nearly lost her temper, but the thought of the ghost's warning kept it at bay.

"That's... that's because I thought you were a demon," she muttered, brow twitching in barely-restrained fury. "At the time, I thought you were a monster. It's my duty to kill demons. It's what I live for."

"That doesn't make what you did to me okay!" he snarled, instantly struggling to buck her off of his back. "You _tortured_ me! You and everyone else here beat the dog shit out of me!"

"IT COULDN'T BE HELPED!" she finally roared, punching him straight between the shoulder blades. "IF I SLIP UP, EVEN FOR A MOMENT, I COULD BE JUST AS DEAD AS THAT GIRL YOU KEEP COMPARING ME TO! AND I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

He wheezed when she struck him a second time in the same spot, then slowly turned his head, glaring out of the corner of his eye.

"And what did torturing _me_ have to do with your life being in danger?" he hissed, irises flaring brightly for a moment. "By all means, explain."

Her brows furrowed and she grit her teeth.

Then she gave in.

Angrily sliding off of him, she unfastened her cloak and shrugged it off her shoulders.

Beneath it, she was wearing a black dress that cut off just above the knees.

However, Xaphile's body fell completely still when he saw her left leg.

"You see this?" she demanded, thrusting the limb out and holding it in front of his face. "This is the result of a situation very similar to the one we're both in right now."

"W-what do you mean?!" he demanded, looking at her in shock. "I don't-"

"Look at my leg, you oaf!" she snarled, waiting till he glanced down at it. "When I was a child, I stupidly trusted a cat demon who rescued me from a group of those filthy boar creatures you saw when we first met. Because of that, I thought she was my ally, but She used me so her tribe could attack this village."

Eyes widening in shock, he stared at the scarred and mangled limb with a stunned expression.

"Oh, my God..." he whispered, looking at the savage teeth marks that had been engraved into her pale skin; her leg and kneecap looked completely disjointed, as if they had been broken repetitively in several different areas. "What did she do to you?! It looks like... like..."

"Like she tried to tear my leg off?" Ella sweetly finished, drawing her limb back and angrily putting the cloak back on. "Yep, that's exactly what happened... and she almost succeeded, too. That night, a whorde of demons overtook this town and burned most of it to the ground. Chisago used to be even bigger than Magnolia, but that night, everything was destroyed and hundreds of people died because of me."

His tongue felt frozen.

But she continued on.

"I would have died, too, had Angelo not come to my rescue," she growled, pale pink eyes glimmering with hate. "That 'innocent little cat' I'd called a friend for two years tried to take my life. And the whole time, she _laughed_ in my _face_. The people in this village are the remaining survivors of that attack."

He was bone white by the time she stopped speaking.

"I-I would never do something that awful..." he finally breathed, staring at her with a stunned expression. "Never! Not just to you, but to ANYBODY! That's fucked up!"

"And how am I supposed to believe you?!" she spat, making him flinch backwards. "The last time a creature like you tried to embrace me, that's EXACTLY what HAPPENED!"

He didn't want to admit it, but he kind of understood where she was coming from.

But it changed nothing.

Hair sticking to his face, he looked at her with deadened eyes.

"You don't have to worry anymore," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'll never embrace you again."

"THAT'S NOT - !" she started to screech, then stilled and took a deep breath before quietly beginning all over again. "That's not... what I _want_."

"Then what DO you want?!" he croaked, looking at her with a weak expression. "Haven't you seen me suffer enough? How much more will you hurt me before you're satisfied with it?!"

"After hearing your tale, and seeing the ghost of the girl you loved with my own two eyes, I don't _want_ to hurt you," she snapped. "I now have a small shred of proof that what you said might be true, but it isn't enough to fully ride on since I've seen a lot of illusion magic. I want to know if you are being genuine with me. And that's why, I won't let you die until I know if what you've told me is the truth."

"How can I prove something like that?" he hissed. "It's not possible."

"Actually, it is," she retorted. "I told you earlier! If it turns out that your Ella really _did_ die... there might just be a way to conjure her spirit. If it works... I could absorb her memories and see what happened to the two of you through _her_ eyes. And there's also a chance that doing so might... or might _not..._ change things for the better, you know?"

His eyes seemed to lose their reflective sheen.

"Why the hell should I trust you?" he whispered. "You don't truly care what happens to me... there's no reason for you to do this."

"You're only half-right," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "I mean, truly, I _don't_ care about you... but I just saw my own ghost. I can't deny that now I do have a reason for wanting to see her memories."

"And what would that be?" he growled. "Care to explain?"

"Simple: it's beneficial to me in the end," she told him honestly, folding her arms. "If what you say is the truth, your Ella lived a happy and protected life. I would feel satisfied just _knowing_ that I had lived happily in another time and place. After all, right now, I'm too busy trying to keep those around me alive to worry about my own happiness, especially since all it seems to do is get people _killed_."

The last remark was a bitter stab at him, but it did indeed make sense.

"What will you do once you have her memories?" he demanded, mouth pressing into a bitter line. "If you see the world through her eyes... and it changes your perspective of me... it won't change the fact that you aren't her, so what will you do?"

She tilted her head, wet hair shifting to the side.

Then, slowly crawling forward and touching his face with both hands, she brought her eyes within an inch of his own.

"At the very least," she quietly murmured, knowing she had him right where she wanted, "I could start trying to fix what was broken inside you. After all, who knows? With her memories inside my head... the love she had for you might actually fall across my shoulders. Even though you're right in saying I'm _not_ her, it is indeed possible... it's happened to many others who have tried dabbling with dream walking magic. Those who absorb the memories of others _become_ that person, in a way."

"That's impossible," he whispered, not taking his eyes off hers. "Magic doesn't exist where I come from... it's not real."

"Where you came from obviously isn't here, then," she stated quietly, looking at him more gently. "In this time and place, Magic exists... I personally cannot use it, but there are many others who can. And many more who are genuinely skilled with it. There are many types of magic in this world... from fire magic, to water magic, to the magic of the wind and earth... to maker magic, holder magic, and many more types, more than you could ever possibly imagine. That's not the point, though."

"Why am I necessary for this?" he croaked, tears finally spilling down his face. "Why do I need to be around if you're going to do this anyway?"

She merely looked at him as though he were stupid.

"Take a good look at yourself," she retorted, folding her arms. "I don't want to be this pathetic!"

He blinked.

"Excuse me?" he groused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you an idiot?!" she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "Look at you! Some girl went off and died, but it turned you into a sniveling sob story! Sure, even _with_ you dead, I could gain her memories... but what then? If I really _do_ succumb to the same type of love that she had for you, I'd probably end up being in the same spot you are now! Would you really wish that on me? On _her?_ "

His heart clenched and he felt sick: catlike pupils expanding, he stared at her with quivering irises.

He didn't know how to respond.

"If I wait... until you have absorbed her memories," he quietly murmured, "and it turns out that you'll be fine... then, will you set me free...?"

"That depends," Ella retorted, hefting her cloak back on. "First, there's the problem of finding a mage who's skilled with dream walking... then, there's the issue with finding a necromancer, which won't be easy since black magic like that has been outlawed for hundreds of years. It could take a while."

"I see," he muttered.

"However, I don't make false statements," she added. "I'm serious about getting my hands on this mysterious girl's memories. All you have to do is say you're willing to live. If you still want to die, I won't... stop you... but at the very least, you'll be able to give your Ella a proper goodbye."

Xaphile's heart nearly stopped.

He slowly turned to stare at her through tendrils of his wet hair, feeling panic rising up. Her words had frightened him beyond measure, but at the same time, there was also a glimmer of something faint resounding within the hole he called a heart.

Hope? Yearning? Excitement? Terror?

It could have been any of those, or none at all.

"Really?" he hesitantly asked."There's really... a way... for me to see her again?"

He trailed off, mouth trembling and muscles starting to shake.

"The possibility is likely," she confirmed. "So, let's shake on this: until I get a hold of her memories and we're sure that my feelings toward you haven't changed, you won't leave town unless someone is with you, and you won't let yourself die. Deal?"

When she spit on her hand and held it out, quirking an eyebrow, he stared at her, fearing the hope that had bloomed within his heart. But, in the end, perhaps...

He cut the thought off before it could form and just decided to roll with it.

Spitting on his own hand and abruptly clasping her own, he glared at her.

"Deal."

"Good! Now, return to Amelia," she promptly snorted, getting up and grabbing her dagger from the ground. "I've already notified the citizens of Chisago that she's responsible for housing you from today onward."

"What about Gus?" he asked, giving her a look.

"Octavius is a nomad and has his hands quite full at the moment," she sniffed, shaking her wet hair out and peering at the thundering sky. "I'm sure the last thing he'd want is to babysit you. Plus, for some bizarre reason, Amelia seems to be very sympathetic towards you."

"Your point?"

"Must I explain _everything_? The _least_ you can do is humor her and let her comfort you."

When he scowled, she sheathed her weapon and flung her cloak around in a circle before sweeping away, pulling her hood up. Climbing to his feet, he stared after her with a limp posture. Then, closing his eyes with a sigh, he turned to head back to Amelia's home.

He wasn't happy with his situation, but that little spark of hope was all it had taken.


	13. Chapter 13: World of Green

**Chapter Twelve: World of Green**

When he arrived back at Amelia's home, feeling like a half-drowned cat, the girl was still sleeping in front of the fire. Shivering somewhat, he stumbled over to it and weakly sank down to his knees, leaning against the mantle and taking in the heat of the flames. He watched them dance, lifting his right arm and pressing a hand against his chest... feeling his heart throbbing painfully with each beat.

In truth, he didn't know what to do anymore.

He simply didn't know.

Nothing made sense to his mind.

So, he stopped thinking and closed his eyes.

However, the sound of the chair creaking soon met his ears, and he heard a yawn.

"Huh?" Amelia mumbled, looking around with bleary eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, ignoring how she jumped and whirled to look at him. "You did."

"P-Phil, you're soaking wet!" she gasped, jumping up in alarm. "What happened?"

"I went for a walk and it started raining," he rasped. "I was drenched by the time I got back."

"Wait there... I'll go get a drying cloth," Amelia sighed, primly shuffling off down the hall. "No need for you to catch a cold."

Not that he needed her to tell him.

He couldn't find any energy to move after everything that had happened.

From the emotional agony of losing Ella, to the shock of taking his own life... then, ending up in a strange place with bizarre changes in his body, and then being tortured by a girl with Ella's face. He'd been beaten by strange people... he'd been whipped until he'd bled... he'd been locked in a cage like an animal for weeks.

And yet, even with all the unanswerable questions floating around inside his mind, he felt detached and strongly suicidal. But he would wait... if only because she had given him a chance to say goodbye to the real Ella. He could ignore the memory prospect... all he wanted was a chance to see his true love one last time.

That was more than he could have ever asked for.

When Amelia walked back into the room with a grin, she held the cloth up and opened her mouth to say something... but then, her face fell. She watched, helplessly, as Xaphile stared at the wall. Water dripped off his hair and landed on his shoulders as he sat there.

Hesitantly moving forward, Amelia knelt down in front of him and gently draped the towel over his head. Being careful about not touching his horns, she gently began to rub the cloth against his soaked hair. His eyes flicked to look at her while she dried him off, but he didn't feel motivated enough to speak. After toweling his head off and gently wiping his shoulders, she dabbed at the fur on his chest.

And yet, even though Amelia tentatively kept rubbing and patting until he was dry, he didn't move.

He didn't blink. He didn't speak. He only sat there.

Eventually, the herbalist pulled the towel away and set a small hand against his cheek.

"I do not understand the sadness lurking inside you," she murmured, tilting her head to the side with a very gentle expression. "I won't ever attempt to pretend that I do understand it, either. Still, for what it's worth... in my experience, the warmth of home always has a tendency to make my sorrows fade a little. If you wish... you may think of this place as home, for now."

He turned his head and looked at her.

"Home?" he asked, narrowing his eyes a little. "This... doesn't seem right."

For several moments, Amelia merely stared at him, obviously not understanding his reaction.

Then she withdrew her hand and smiled.

"I don't particularly understand why you would say so, since it truly seems right no matter how hard I think about it," she sighed, primly clasping her hands. "Sleep well, Phil... and... if you truly wish to go somewhere... please, at least let me know first."

Xaphile felt a little surprised for a moment, but then his bland expression returned and he nodded.

Just as Amelia stood up and began to walk down the hall with a yawn, he decided to ask her a question.

"Do you... know love?" he quietly inquired, making her pause mid-step. "Have you ever truly devoted every part of your being to someone else?"

"Huh?" she asked, looking over her shoulder with a startled expression. "Of course I know love! And yes, I devote myself to everyone, all the time!"

"That's not what I meant," Xaphile droned, not even bothering to blink. "What I'm asking is if you know _true_ love."

Amelia turned back around, looking at him with a concerned expression.

"What brought this on?" she inquired, hooking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to admit, a question such as that... it's quite unexpected."

She didn't.

It was obvious.

Xaphile let his head thump back against the fireplace and gave a small sigh.

"It's nothing important," he croaked, slightly shaking his head. "Forget I said anything."

"Well, then... I'll be off to bed," she murmured, giving him a look. "Are you sure you're all right, though?"

"I'm fine," Xaphile told her, forcing a halfhearted grin. "Just thinking about things, that's all."

When she returned his smile with a relieved one of her own, he was actually grateful that she was so naive.

It prevented her from seeing beneath the surface of his feelings.

"Goodnight, Phil," Amelia sighed, beaming at him before turning and heading to her room. "Sleep well."

Then she was gone, with nothing but the quiet sound of a door shutting to mark her departure.

It felt like hours passed as he sat there, staring off into space.

Thinking about Ella.

Missing her.

Everything within his body hurt to the point where he wanted nothing more to escape from himself.

So, he did one of the only things that seemed to help: he sang.

" _The day we met... frozen, I'd held my breath..."_ he quietly hummed, voice cracking as a flash of the real Ella's face seared through his head. " _Right from the start... I knew I had found a home for my heart._ _It beats... fast... colors and promises... how to be brave? How can I love when I'm afraid... to fall? But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt... suddenly goes away somehow. One step closer..._ "

This song was a sanctuary for when he was feeling his worst.

After Ella had initially passed, he had listened to the music from her bedroom for days on end, memorizing the songs she'd loved. Doing so had solidified her memory inside his mind, as well as the moments they'd spent together. Now, because of it, most of Christina Perri's songs sometimes brought back vivid flashes of his memories... forgotten fragments of the warmth he'd always had when he'd been with Ella.

And during them... he somehow managed to disappear inside of himself, in a manner similar to when he was in physical pain. These moments, when the past was suddenly right in front of him and felt like it was close enough to touch, were strangely the happiest for him. The delusional visions were a small consolation.

But they were the only thing he had left.

So, for a few choice seconds... he fully went away deep inside his head.

Carried on the notes of a song he and Ella had both loved.

" _I have died every day waiting for you,"_ he quietly thrummed, deep voice reverberating through Amelia's kitchen. _"Darling, don't be afraid... I have loved you for a thousand years... I'll love you for a thousand more. All along, I believed I... would find you._ _Time has brought your heart to me... I have loved you for a thousand years... and_ _I'll love you for a thousand more..."_

A few moments of peace was rare.

But it couldn't last.

Like always, his voice died away and reality came back to him with a thundering jolt.

Ella was dead.

The realization crushed his momentary shred of happiness all over again and he slowly lifted a hand, pressing it against his tired eyes. He didn't want to move anymore. The emptiness that had been festering inside him for months was overwhelming. He probably would've cried if he'd had anymore tears to choke out.

But he didn't.

Silently, Xaphile curled up into a ball on the floor and closed his eyes, hugging himself.

He didn't even notice it when Amelia, who'd been leaning against the wall, tiptoed away and melted into the shadows. For the rest of that night, he remained huddled in front of the fire.

And when he fell asleep, he had nightmares.

Nightmares about Ella.

The real one, and the evil one, at times he couldn't tell which one was which, but both tormented him in different ways. His sleep was restless and troubled, to the point where it felt like he hadn't slept at all when he finally woke up. He was grateful to the soft humming and the smell of cooking food that roused him.

Sitting up, he stretched and dazedly looked around, hands on his lap.

"Good morning," Amelia called, whisking to and fro with quite a bit of pep. "Breakfast is almost ready, Phil! I was just about to wake you!"

"Breakfast...?" he groggily muttered, touching his disheveled hair before slowly crawling to his feet and dusting off the azure pants. "Er, thanks..."

When he tried to walk down the hall, however, she halted him by sweeping forward and holding out an arm to bar his path.

"You, my good sir, should put on the robe I gave you yesterday before you catch cold," she firmly told him, gesturing at the blue cloth resting on the ground. "I know that it doesn't fit you, but you must understand. For me, it is... slightly embarrassing and a bit uncomfortable to see you in such a state of undress. _"_

He looked at her, then glanced down at himself before he winced.

"Yeah, I get it," he sighed, rubbing his head and scratching his hand with one of his horns. "Sorry."

With little fanfare, he grasped the silken blue cloth and dragged it over his head, then fluffed his hair out.

"Also, about the clothes I'm having made for you," she murmured, picking up a strange contraption and opening an old bread oven that had been built into the wall; heaving the handles close together repetitively, he watched with surprised eyes as the fire inside the oven grew brighter; then she shut it again. "Whew... what are your preferences in color? And also, what sort of clothes do you prefer? High collars shirts? Fashionable tailcoats? Robes?"

He lowered his eyes, thinking about it for a moment.

"My favorite color is black, but if it's clothes, I don't really have a preference," he murmured. "I don't care about style as long as whatever I'm wearing is comfortable... but... if it's possible... I'd..."

He instantly hesitated, wondering if it was going too far to ask for something, especially from a girl he had only met a little while ago.

"Go on..." she eagerly whispered, clasping her hands with a grin. "Tell me! If there's anything I can do, just say the word!"

He swallowed and looked at her, feeling highly uncomfortable.

"If possible," he muttered, reluctantly closing his eyes. "I'd really like a shirt with sleeves that are long enough to completely hide my hands. And also, a hood to cover up... well, you know...?"

When she blinked in confusion, he sighed and slowly tapped one of his horns.

Her eyes instantly flashed with recognition.

"Oh, I see," she murmured, putting some sort of cloth on her hands before turning to the oven and pulling out a fresh loaf of bread. "Yes, it can be done... but... what else? Are you fine with whatever clothes I choose to have made for you aside from that particular preference?"

"Well, if you're really going to do this," Xaphile sighed, giving her a look. "I'd very much appreciate it if whatever you bring back has a normal pair of pants and a hooded shirt with long sleeves. That's really all I want."

"So, you're giving me permission for the rest?" she asked, eyes gleaming behind her glasses. "Really?"

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed, rubbing his face and letting out a catlike yawn. "Feel free to choose whatever. I really don't care what it looks like."

She beamed, then nodded before momentarily setting the pan of bread on the counter.

"Well, once this cools, we can eat," she murmured, opening the kitchen window and setting the tray on the edge of the sill; then she lifted her eyes and froze, face draining of color. "Oh, no..."

His brows furrowed when she slowly covered her mouth.

"What is it...?" he carefully inquired, stepping over to the window and peering outside; he frowned, since there was a young boy and an old man kneeling in front of a small tree near the farthest edge of the marketplace. All around it, fallen apple blossoms and the rotted husks of apples were resting on the ground. "What... are they doing?"

"That's the tree Marty Crawford planted for his wife and daughter many years ago," she sighed, lowering her eyes. "Your magic is the cause of it."

"Huh?" he asked, feeling a bit startled; instantly lowering his eyes to her face, he stared at her in shock. "What are you saying?"

"It's all right," she sighed, lifting a hand and setting it on his shoulder with a solemn smile. "I understand... what we did to you wasn't right, so..."

"That's not what I mean," he growled, making her step back and look at him more carefully. "How am I the cause of this? I..."

The way she began looking at him cut his trail of thought off.

 _If I'm going to get anywhere with this,_ he silently muttered, _I'm probably gonna have to lie._

There were plenty of excuses he could make, but he decided to go with the simplest.

After all, telling people he had taken his own life would probably make them think he was insane.

And the last thing he wanted was to get locked up again because of it.

"I don't... remember anything prior to a few weeks ago," he muttered, averting his eyes. "I don't remember much of anything aside from the fact that someone I once held very, very dear passed away. All I know is that when I woke up, I was all alone. I can't remember anything."

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked, glancing at him with serious blue eyes. "Did you suffer an injury to your head?"

"I don't know," he retorted, trying to keep the lie going; his face was twitching, though, because he completely sucked at telling falsehoods. "All I know is that I can't remember much of anything aside from the girl who passed away. That is all. In fact, when I first woke up, I... thought I was human for a little while."

Amelia remained silent: he could tell from her expression that she was suspicious of his explanation, but she didn't seem eager to press the situation and find out the truth.

Something he was grateful for, since he didn't have a clue how he was going to explain that he had killed himself and ended up in a completely different world.

"That could be problematic," she murmured, expression finally relaxing. "If you don't remember anything... does it also mean you don't recall your abilities as a sprite?"

"Basically," he muttered, tail flicking around in rapid manner. "I honestly didn't know I had any strange powers until recently... I still don't believe I do, in fact."

Her eyes widened and she tensed.

"You... didn't even know?!" she whispered, covering her mouth again. "Oh, dear... um, okay. Listen. If the stories of old are true, the magic residing within all woodland spirits was always called forth depending on the situation at hand. The faeries were either angry, sad, or happy. So, perhaps... if you _feel?_ "

She seemed just as uncertain as he, but after a moment, he turned and looked out the window again.

"Do you really think it's that simple?" he muttered, eyeing the two people in front of the tree with a grim expression. "To use this so-called magic of mine?"

"Well, I'm not sure, since all I have to go off of are the old tales... and since you're the first fairy anyone has ever really seen in almost a thousand years, I'm not entirely certain if your magic works like typical caster magic," she murmured, then followed his gaze with sad eyes, "but if it turns out that my theory _is_ how you can use your magic... would you please... h-heal the tree?"

He blinked, then looked at her in confusion.

"Why?" he asked, feeling a little wary. "Why do you want me to?"

"Because Marty Crawford's eyes look like yours," she stated quietly, not meeting his gaze. "He has eyes so sad that... you can almost feel his pain by looking at them."

He winced, feeling a pang of regret sear through him... but then he began to wonder about something.

"I'll be right back," he muttered, letting out a sigh and turning away from the window. "If feeling is how this works... I don't know if I'll ever be able to do anything to fix it, but at the very least, I can try."

Amelia watched as he he padded down the hall and opened the door, stepping out into the streets and heading towards the marketplace.

He did his best to ignore the way several people going to and fro halted in their tracks with taut faces. Everyone stared at him with fear when he padded over to where the child, who turned out to be Kirby, was sitting by the old man. The little boy's large eyes brightened when he spotted him.

Xaphile gave the kid a halfhearted wave, then looked at the tree more closely.

A freakish pulsing sensation began to sweep through him as he went nearer to it.

Face going blank, he halted and backed off a step, shivering slightly.

A wave of goosebumps rose up his spine as he stared at the plant.

The external pulse coming off it was the strangest thing he'd ever felt.

After a moment, he directed his attention to the old man, looking at his quivering shoulders.

"Sir," he quietly muttered, feeling uncomfortable. "This tree... is it special to you?"

The old man stiffened and turned around, looking at him in disbelief.

Xaphile immediately realized what Amelia had meant by them having similar eyes: Marty Crawford's rich brown irises held absolutely no reflective sheen, and even though his face was mostly expressionless, he somehow still looked like he was in copious amounts of pain.

It was a look he recognized... he had seen this same expression on his own face every time he'd looked into a mirror after Ella's death.

"You're the one who did this..." he said quietly, almost gently. "Why do you ask such a question now? You've already killed my tree."

Keeping his face blank, Xaphile squatted down and met the old man's gaze, wrapping his arms around his knees.

His tail flicked back and forth as he regarded the old one with a keen expression.

"Answer the question," he quietly commanded, not breaking eye contact. "Is it special to you?"

The man in front of him was definitely very old... possibly in his sixties or seventies, with countless wrinkles, white hair, and a grey beard.

"This tree is special to me," Marty Crawford sighed, setting a hand on Kirby's shoulders. "It was planted in honor of my wife and daughter, who died in the fires of ten years ago. It was the only memento I had."

His voice was heavy and weathered... he didn't sound sad, merely tired and very world weary.

But that didn't mean the guilt didn't stab Xaphile in the gut.

Thoughts of the evil Ella taking his locket away seared through him.

The same feeling he'd had back then had fallen across this old man because of him.

As the regret filled him, he lifted his eyes to the tree.

Without his knowledge, his irises began glowing again.

Standing up, he walked over to the young plant and tentatively set his clawed hand against it... deep inside, willing himself to fix the mistake he'd somehow made.

He wasn't expecting anything to happen. He really wasn't.

But it did, and WHEN it did, it scared the fuck out of him.

The moment he touched the withering bark, an icy sensation swept throughout his body and his eyes exploded with so much green light that it seemed to be shooting out of his skull.

A bizarre green mark stretched across his fingers and began to extend, weaving up his arm and all across his torso, even sweeping across his face. It wound around him in glowing spirals and curvaceous patterns, illuminating his pale skin from the inside out.

Then the whole tree began to glow green with a hissing noise.

"Divines," Marty gasped, falling backwards with huge eyes. "What are you doing to my tree?! Stop it! Stop it, I say!"

Xaphile could barely hear him.

Somehow, he was becoming lighter... the pain within his breast was fading considerably.

He basked in the sensation of having his pain lessened... the sensation of the crying plant reaching out to him, asking for his help in a way that stretched beyond the boundaries of the voice. The tree had a soul... and it was crying in pain, like his.

He didn't want to let it continue suffering, so he attempted to embrace it in the only way that felt possible.

And as he did so, his dark hair reversed gravity, slowly billowing up towards the sky and drifting around as though he were underwater.

Everyone in the marketplace stood watching in sheer terror of his actions, not knowing what he was doing... fearing the consequences...

But then... it happened.

The tree, which was glowing brightly, unexpectedly erupted into fragrant bloom.

Everyone gasped and eyes widened in shock all over the place at the sight of the gorgeous flowers, but it didn't stop there... no, the strange glow began to extend, traveling through the earth and shining up through the cobblestones as it rapidly expanded.

The strange light touched other crying plants as well... and as it did so, somehow, all of the withered flora began to bloom just as vibrantly as the tree.

Xaphile stretched this power on and on, silencing all of the cries of pain and need that resonated within his heart.

However, as he did so, his body began to tremble... and he slowly sank down to his knees.

Hair still billowing around, he began struggling to breathe.

His lungs heaved, lacking oxygen.

"Stop!" Amelia squeaked, eyes widening in fright when his head lolled backwards. "P-P-Phil! Let go of the tree! It's enough!"

He couldn't even hear her.

He was lost in a blissfully green place... a place where he was beginning to forget everything.

All of his pain was melting away.

"Stop!" Kirby rasped, clasping his blue robe with both hands and tugging; the act made Marty stiffen in shock. "Let... go!"

"Marty!" Amelia shrieked, flailing her arms. "Make him let go of the tree! Hurry!"

"I-I-I..." the old man stammered, shaking his head as he stared at Xaphile's glowing form. "I-I-I... b-but...!"

"IF YOU DON'T STOP HIM, HE COULD DIE!" the brunette screeched, clutching the window. "ALL MAGIC HAS A LIMIT, MARTY! STOP HIM!"

The old man sat frozen, but Kirby was frantically tugging now, looking terrified beyond belief.

"Don't... die!" he hoarsely called, speaking so loudly that his throat sounded as though it were ripping. "Let... go!"

"Fine! I'll do it!" a nearby woman suddenly cried, tucking a basket full of fruit under her arm before hurrying forward. "Divines, protect me!"

The woman shakily gripped the hand holding the tree and pulled Xaphile away from it; almost immediately, the godly aura surrounding his body vanished and his long hair cascaded back down around his shoulders.

However, when his eyes stopped glowing, the life in them dispersed before they rolled back. Limply, he began to fall backwards, but the woman holding the basket caught him.

"Gods!" she gasped, eyes popping open wide. "He's so... heavy!"

His weight proved to be too much: limbs trembling, she plopped down to the ground.

Kirby instantly tried to crawl over, but Marty grabbed him and prevented him from doing so.

"Is... is it all right?!" the old man croaked, watching as she patted Xaphile's arm. "What... what did it just do?!"

"Hang on," Amelia squeaked, disappearing from the window; within a few moments, she came running around the corner and tore over to his side, kneeling beside him and patting his cheek. "Phil?! Phil, are you all right?! Wake up!"

"Phil?" the woman holding the basket asked, furrowing her thin brows. "Who's Phil?"

"That's his name!" Amelia explained, patting his cheek. "Come on, Phil... wake up!"

She shook his arm, but there was no response: he didn't even twitch.

"Is the... sprite... all right?" Marty repeated, watching as Amelia pressed an ear against his chest. "What did he just do?!"

Amelia listened for a moment, but then her expression twitched and she unexpectedly shrieked in terror.

Instantly pulling herself upright, she made an arcane gesture in the air and her hands began to glow gold.

With shaken eyes, she pressed them against his chest and started doing strange compressions.

"HIS HEART'S STOPPED!" the girl cried, shaking all over; once she finished the chest compressions, she pressed her lips against his own and gave him mouth to mouth resuscitation. Then she pulled away and continued. "BREATHE, THAPHILE! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Kirby burst into tears when the girl continued trying to revive him. However, when she breathed air into his lungs a second time, he coughed and she pulled back in surprise.

His face, which had gone bone white, flushed almost purple when he began to cough and hack as though he had lungs full of water.

Then he started breathing again, and his eyes slowly opened.

"You... okay?!" Kirby sniffled, looking at him. "Okay?"

His ears were ringing.

Slowly turning his head, he looked at the tree with glazed eyes.

Lifting a hand, he stretched out to it with a dazed expression, but instead of touching bark... someone clutched his hand.

"What were you thinking?!" Amelia whispered, making him turn his head; she was looking down at him with stunned eyes. "Why would you use that much magic all in one moment?! Even if you _are_ a faery, that was... that was too much! It nearly killed you!"

"Crying..." he rasped, voice coming out so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable. "All of the... plants... were crying."

She blinked, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

"That... that's no excuse," she uneasily stammered, pressing her forehead against his hand. "It was because of you that they started crying in the first place... and you need to understand! They'd be crying until they DIED if you had overdone yourself! You can't just... do things like that!"

He merely looked at her, feeling more exhausted than he had in several weeks.

"I did it..." he croaked, smiling in a dopey manner before looking at the tree with mellow eyes. "Magic... I used magic."

He had indeed: where a withered husk had once stood, there was a beautiful young tree with gorgeous white flowers stemming off the branches.

It looked healthy, vibrant, and alive.

Strangely, though, the pulsing sensation he'd initially felt from it had vanished completely.

"Are you all right?" Amelia asked, drawing his gaze again. "You aren't hurting anywhere, right?"

Xaphile's furry ears twitched a bit when he blinked.

Then, after a moment of thinking about it, he hesitantly shook his head.

"Just tired," he told her, slowly sitting up and rubbing his face. "And strangely hungry."

Amelia blinked, then her tense expression relaxed.

"Well, that's a relief," she sighed, standing up and holding out a hand. "You nearly scared the life right out of me..."

Everyone in the marketplace watched as he took it, allowing her to pull him upright.

"Why?" Marty whispered, looking up at him in disbelief. "My tree is hardly worth your life. Why would you do such a thing?"

Xaphile slowly turned his head and looked down at him.

Then, reaching inside the robe, he pulled out the golden locket and carefully held it up.

"Because I understand your pain better than anyone else probably can," he stated quietly, tapping the locket. "I also have a memento of someone who was lost to me. And I would be devastated if anybody destroyed it before my eyes. I refuse to be the one who forces that type of situation on someone else."

He turned his eyes on Kirby and gave a little wave as he spoke, then glanced at Amelia.

Her eyes were soft behind her glasses.

"Let's go eat," she murmured, leading the way back to her home; as she passed, everyone who'd been watching knelt down, lowering their heads. "Breakfast is waiting."

Xaphile merely lifted his hand and stared at it, thinking back to how he'd disappeared into the land of green.

How all of his pain had faded away... how his heart had lightened from its burdens.

His hand closed and balled into a fist.

It was decided.

When the time finally came and he'd seen his Ella one last time, that's how it would happen.

He would let himself fade into that world of green until he completely disappeared.

With new resolve, he lifted his eyes to the sky and sighed, not even realizing that Ella had been watching him from the edge of the marketplace the whole time.


	14. Chapter 14: Keeping Watch

**Chapter Thirteen: Keeping Watch**

Over the next few days, Ella kept a very close and watchful eye on Amelia Von Dolan's home.

Ever since the incident concerning Marty Crawford's tree, fear and unrest had spread throughout the village.

Ella, like everyone else in town that day, had been stunned by the strength of Xaphile's magic: with one touch of his hand, every single plant within a forty kilometer radius had become vibrant with life and bloom. It was a very bad omen. An Omen that she thoroughly hated since it was just one more annoying thing to keep her from lodging an arrow between his pathetic shoulders.

She didn't trust him.

While it was true that they'd made a bargain, it didn't mean Amelia was safe from him.

She knew all too well that trusting the inhumane was dangerous.

The proof had been engraved into her own flesh.

Every day since she'd witnessed him using magic, she had lounged on a rooftop that towered above the marketplace, observing Amelia's home. She'd chosen her perch because it had a perfect view of the front door and all the windows, but the curtains were always drawn throughout the day. It was actually rather boring, since the horned devil stayed indoors more than she would have expected from a woodland creature.

Nonetheless, he did come outside for a few minutes each day.

Even if it _was_ only so he could wash the supper dishes and help Amelia with the laundry.

More often than not, though, the clumsy idiot mucked everything up to the point where Amelia usually had to stop, come over, and guide him through the simple processes. And each time she did, Ella would glower over the girl's naive behavior. Amelia didn't even seem to care that he wasn't human. Instead of firmly reprimanding him for his blatantly stupidity, she simply laughed.

She treated him as though he were like any other inexperienced young man, and it irritated her.

She knew why it irritated her, too.

She saw herself in Amelia.

She feared that the girl would make the same mistake she had ten years ago.

For five whole days, however, nothing changed.

Then came the morning of the sixth.

Waking up early like she always did, she headed for the practice area in the northernmost part of the village. Pausing at the gateway, the pale girl greeted one of the guards. As she was strapping on her practice sword, the man grinned mischievously at the extremely vexed expression on Ella's face. His green eyes began to twinkle as he eyed the girl up and down.

"Come to show 'em how it's done, eh?" he asked, winking. "Don't be too hard on 'em!"

"I'll try to behave," Ella grumpily replied, "but I'm in a very foul mood and I want to get it out of me."

"Sounds to me," the guard chuckled, eyes twinkling, "like somebody's gonna get his head whacked."

"It won't be me."

Her retort was so confident that the guard smirked.

"I never thought it would be," he chortled, shaking his head. "Go easy on 'em."

Ella sighed as she stepped through the gate and headed for the practice lines.

There were several men working with their practice swords, but all of them were much older than she. Angelo was standing off to one side, showing the two youngest men - a set of twins in their late teens - how to duel with the dull one-edged swords. He was the one who'd saved her life when she'd made the big mistake ten years ago. It was no surprise that those events had led to her current life.

The life of a demon-slayer rather than a pampered countess.

Back then, after her leg had finally healed, she had forced Angelo, captain of the guard, to train her in swordplay. The man had been very reluctant to agree in letting her battle the other warriors at first, and Ella knew deep down that the knight had only relented because he'd believed she would do badly.

Then he could convince her not to continue.

Only, it hadn't worked out like that: she had beaten all of the novice trainees hands down.

Using the odd physical magic that made her what she was.

A killer.

Ella's eyes scanned the ranks of men and lighted on a noble named Olaf Grunwald. Olaf was the middle aged son of her late father's advisor, and because of that he believed he was better bred than everyone else in Chisago aside from Ella, who he'd constantly been flirting with since the previous year.

It was primarily because of this that she chose him.

He deserved to be knocked down a peg or two.

"Well, well!" Olaf drawled in his oily voice, smirking widely as she approached. "If it isn't our lovely Countess. Come to accept my rightful place as your adviser? Or perhaps... have you decided to accept my hand?"

"I shall never marry, and if you want to advise me in _any_ regard," Ella calmly shot back, raising an eyebrow at his arrogance, "let your sword do the talking."

The swords didn't have points and their edges were deliberately dulled so they couldn't draw blood, but they could and did leave bruises. The idea was to become proficient with real swords without killing people, but hurting them was another matter entirely. Angelo felt that the bruises were a wonderful incentive to make all of the men and women in the barracks become better fighters.

It was actually a very good tactic to use, since it made them tolerant to copious amounts of pain and actually ended up enhancing their reflexes in the long run. With a scornful sigh, Olaf raised his practice sword and lunged: Ella twisted slightly to avoid the thrust, whipping her sword in response and batting Olaf's aside with casual ease. The man's style was all arrogance, so Ella had generally gone very easy on him in the past.

However, today she simply didn't care.

Olaf was slightly overbalanced from his thrust, so she whacked him hard on his left arm with her own blade as she spun about. The man grimaced in pain, but he was too proud to cry out; instead he attacked her again, this time with anger to add to his arrogance.

But because she was also angry, she began to fight back with all of her strength and skill.

Olaf never managed to touch her once with his blade, but Ella tapped him another three times in rapid succession.

The other men had grown silent, watching this fight.

They knew that although Ella was the youngest out of all the warriors AND a female to boot, she was still the best fighter in the entire town. It was genetic magical influence that made her what she was: she herself was not able to use magic like other wizards. Her magic was purely physical: it enhanced her speed and strength.

They also knew that Olaf was going to get a beating he would remember painfully for days.

She whirled around, parrying his next attack with the ferocity of a lion before countering with a heavy blow to his stomach, leaving him wheezing and gasping. She then tapped his sword arm and slapped him against the side of his neck. After that, she stabbed him with the dulled point of the blade and twisted it painfully.

If the swords had been real, Olaf would be dead, and everyone knew it.

As it was, he would now be sore whenever he breathed.

"It's over," Angelo finally called, starting toward them. "This fight has been decided."

Ella nodded and dropped her practice sword to the ground, giving a bow.

She was just starting to turn away when Olaf snarled and lunged for her with his own sword upraised, aiming for her face.

She saw it coming out of the corner of her eye.

In a flash, she drew one of her daggers and parried the blow, then swept forward and held the blade against his throat. He froze when she met his gaze with a fierce glare, but instead of killing him, Ella slowly drew back and savagely kicked him in the fork of the legs. Every single guy in the clearing flinched when he screeched like a young woman and fell to the ground, holding his loins.

"You won't be needing those," Ella growled, looking down at him with a haughty expression. "Only _men_ are worthy enough to have them."

"Nicely done," Angelo irritably admitted. "It's fortunate that you didn't kill him."

"He's not worthy of _anything_ by my hand... not death, and most certainly not matrimony," Ella icily countered, tossing her hair and giving Olaf a dangerous look. "The reason I will never marry is simple: there isn't a man alive who could hope to win my heart if he can't best me in combat. And I will _never_ be beaten."

"But my lady," Olaf wheezed, still clutching himself. "My father served yours! Out of everyone here, am I not the most logical choice?"

"Are you mental?" she snapped, leering down at his weasle-like face in disgust. "I don't want a coward who would purposely attempt to strike me unawares as my husband. Also, no offense, but you're... well, a rather _homely_ old man. Superficial I may be for saying it, but you're highly unattractive _and_ you're twice my age. I happen to find your interest in me rather creepy. So, no, I would _never_ marry you."

His jaw dropped.

Ella ignored the look of shock on his face and gave a salute to Angelo before she turned and stalked off, cloak billowing behind her. With her stress relieved a bit, she stopped by the tavern to ask Drake if he'd heard any news about the members of Fairy Tail who'd accepted Amelia's Job.

They were running alarmingly late.

Then again, the distance between Chisago and Magnolia was a considerable journey, so she understood that there was probably a reason for their absence. There might have been complications along the road, what with all of the demons running around in the south. Unfortunately, like always, Drake hadn't heard anything through his Lacrima, so she reluctantly headed to the market to observe Amelia's home.

On her way there, however, she actually bumped into Amelia herself and knocked the bespectacled girl off balance. She dropped her armload of parcels and _would_ have fallen over had Ella not steadied her.

"D-deepest apologies," Amelia stammered, giving her a startled glance and bowing with clasped hands. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No need to apologize," Ella smoothly retorted, squatting down and picking her things up. "It was my fault."

Amelia, looking very flustered, knelt down as well and shakily helped pick the packages up.

"Here you go," Ella sighed, dropping the rest in her arms. "Those are all pretty soft and light... what exactly did you buy today?"

"Oh, nothing much," Amelia mumbled, giving her a warm smile. "I had some clothes made for Phil."

Ella's eyebrow twitched, but she kept the irritation off her face since now was as good of a time as any to get information about what had been going on with the creature inside the house.

"Speaking of that horned furball," she slyly drawled, making a good show of folding her arms and looking up in wide-eyed curiosity. "Has he been causing you any problems?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Amelia murmured, looking surprised by her question. "In fact, quite the opposite! I'm actually _shocked_ by how gentlemanly he is! His table manners are exquisite, he's polite, and while he _is_ a tad clumsy, he makes up for it! It's hard to believe he's a forest creature."

"Is that so?" Ella drawled, eyes growing half-lidded in disbelief. "Well, if there's anything about him that worries you... tell me. It's important."

Amelia's smile faltered a bit, instantly catching her attention, but instead of pointing it out, Ella let the moment of silence draw on. She felt triumph flare in her breast when Amelia finally sighed and awkwardly fiddled with one of her braids.

"Well... there _are_ a few things about him that have begun to worry me," she finally admitted, shifting the packages and looking at Ella with a solemn expression. "Will you walk with me, my Lady? There are things I wish to tell you, and many more things I wish to ask."

"But of course," Ella shot back, giving a look of feigned surprise. "If you wish to converse, by all means. What troubles you, Amelia?"

"Oh, don't misunderstand, please!" she instantly protested, eyes widening in a flash. "It's not that I'm troubled, really! Phil is a sweetheart! It's just..."

"Go on," Ella coaxed, biting back her rising irritation. "What is it?"

"I'm worried about his sense of self," Amelia weakly admitted, hefting the packages. "I'm afraid that he might be... very ill in the mind, my Lady."

Ella froze and her expression turned extremely dangerous.

"Ill?" she lowly demanded, making the brunette look at her. "What do you mean, ill?"

Amelia turned bone white when she realized just how pissed off she looked.

"Do not fear! It's not as though he's going crazy or anything, really!" she squawked, frantically shaking her head; then she looked at the ground uncomfortably. "It's just... as each day passes, he becomes more distant. He hardly eats anything, even now, and all he really ever does is sleep. Day and night, he almost never opens his eyes."

Ella tilted her head and regarded her with furrowed brows.

"How does that make him ill in the mind?" she snorted. "Don't make me worry for you over nothing."

"Well, I don't know how else to explain it," Amelia helplessly sighed, hefting her parcels. "He seems to be extremely unhappy. I find myself wishing that there were something I could do for him, all the time."

"Don't blame yourself over his actions," Ella muttered, giving her a somewhat pensive expression. "I think he's simply trying to lure you into getting close to him."

Amelia instantly halted in her tracks.

"Lure me?" she asked, blinking rapidly in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Look..." Ella sighed, rubbing her nose. "What I did to that creature was uncalled for, but he still cannot be fully trusted since he isn't human. We don't even know if he's truly a fairy, since we have no validation. If he's unhappy, let him stay that way: he'll eventually give up the act and try another tactic. Just watch."

"What are you saying?" Amelia asked, face growing distraught. "If he's trying to lure me into trusting him, why would he avoid contact with me so much? Shouldn't it be the other way around? It makes no sense!"

"It makes quite a bit of sense if you consider the circumstances," Ella countered, tilting her head back with a sigh. "At this point, we still only think of him as a beast waiting to strike. Sprite or not, he probably knows we won't ever fully trust him. So, he's acting pitiful and righteous to gain the sympathy of others."

"That isn't true at all," Amelia immediately retorted. "I can assure you... that isn't what he's doing."

"Oh?" Ella sweetly asked, giving her an innocent expression. "Then what do _you_ think he's doing?"

"I'm not fully sure," Amelia uncomfortably mumbled, "but I highly doubt he'd be able to pull off that horrible expression if he were only acting. He definitely isn't trying to gain sympathy, that much I am sure of."

"What horrible expression?" Ella asked, giving her a confused look. "Explain."

Amelia sighed, hefted her things yet again, and continued moving.

"It's a look I see in his eyes now and then," she explained, shaking her head as they walked down the cobblestone streets. "Every time I see it, it's like something unpleasant cuts my heart."

"Don't be fooled," Ella growled. "He's cunning, and from what we've seen, extremely powerful."

"I doubt that, too," Amelia countered. "Phil said that he's lost all memory of being a sprite. In fact, until the incident a few days ago, he apparently didn't even know how to use his magic.

Ella's eyes darkened again.

"Preposterous!" she snorted. "I don't believe it."

"Regardless of your beliefs, I am worried for him."

"Why?!"

"Because," Amelia muttered, keeping her eyes on the ground, "his behavior is something I recognize. He is drowning in grief... and I fear that he is on the brink of letting himself waste away because of it."

Ella frowned as something occurred to her.

If Xaphile's story was true and he really had somehow taken his own life, there were things that needed to be discussed. And there were also several ways to find out if he was lying about everything, too.

"I'll be dropping by your home to chat with him tonight, then," Ella stated firmly. "At the moment, I still have much to do, so I must take my leave. Thank you for sharing this information with me."

"Oh, no, not at all," Amelia sighed, watching she nodded and whisked away. "Thank you."

Thus, hefting the packages, she happily hastened through the marketplace and all but ran to her house.


	15. Chapter 15: Stars

**Chapter Fourteen: Stars**

Amelia was excited.

All of the clothes she'd had made for Xaphile had finally been finished, and she was genuinely eager to do something that might brighten his mood, if only for a few moments. Upon entering her home, she noticed that he was in his usual place by the fire, leaning against the mantle with his head resting lightly.

Ever since that first night, he'd offered to help with household tasks, but after going through everything and cleaning her whole home from top to bottom, there really hadn't been anything else for him to do. He'd taken to sitting in that spot with his eyes closed, looking tired and more than a little melancholy.

Somehow, it had become his regular resting place.

When she gently set the parcels on her kitchen counter, his sleepy eyes flicked open and he looked at her.

Then, with a yawn, he unfolded himself from the floor and cracked his neck.

"Shopping again?" he rasped, voice coming out a little hoarse. "Want me to put anything away?"

"Actually, yes!" she exclaimed, turning around and handing him one of the packages. "This is yours! Once you open it, I want you to take the others and put them in the trunk we moved into your room day before yesterday."

"For me?" Xaphile asked, blinking at it in detached confusion; lifting his clawed hand, he hesitantly took the parcel and carefully opened it up, blinking when his eyes fell upon some sort of black cloth. "Huh?"

Pulling out the dark fabric, he held it up and gently shook it out.

His mouth dropped open.

It was the closest thing to a modern-day hoodie that he'd seen since waking up in Fiore.

The shirt still had that bizarre medieval flare to it, but it was still something he could see himself wearing. The fabric was thin and cool to the touch, like a strange mixture of cotton and silk... and all across the sleeves, shoulders, and hood, strange vines and flowers had been embroidered with shiny silver thread.

It was actually really cool looking.

Then there were the pants he'd been given.

Brows furrowing, he held them up.

They were also black, but had a strange shape.

To his modernized eyes, they looked like something he could picture on a pirate, since they flared out in a loose manner, but looked very tight near the ankles. To think of this as a regular every day outfit was unreal.

"Do you like them?" she asked, clasping her hands behind her back with a huge grin. "I chose quite a few different clothing styles that I thought were simple, but still flashy. Everything is designed for comfort and easy movement, and the tailor was even kind enough to design a hole in the leggings for your tail!"

"I don't know what to say," he murmured, giving her a stunned look. "Thank you."

"Well, after you put them on," she giggled, "please fold up my father's robe and set it on the counter. Now that you have clothes of your own, _including_ undergarments, there's no need for you to wear something that doesn't fit you."

Xaphile looked down at the azure outfit resting on his lean frame and sighed.

"Thank you," he quietly repeated. "This is... more than I could have asked for."

She watched as he slinked off down the hall towards the washroom. When he disappeared, tail flicking out of sight, Amelia giddily returned to her duties.

 _I did something to cheer him up,_ she silently cheered, humming as she worked. _I'm so happy!_

For nearly ten minutes, she whisked around her home, alternating between grinding poultices and her chores. She was just finishing one of her regular customer's headache remedies when he came back into the room.

She instantly turned, planning to ask if he could grab an empty parcel, but her request died on her tongue.

All she could do was stare at him.

"My word," she whispered. "Phil..."

It was actually kind of intimidating for her to realize just how much a simple change of clothes could alter someone's appearance. Instead of looking goofy and relaxed like he had while wearing her father's old clothes, his new attire literally made him look like the essence of darkness.

The shirt clung tightly to his upper torso and a sharp v-shaped swath of cloth stretched down below his pectorals, greatly revealing the long stretch of black fur on his pale skin and showing off his broad shoulders. It loosened near the waist to allow mobility and comfort, the ends hanging down to his lower thighs.

The sleeves, much like the robes he'd been wearing until now, stretched past his clawed hands in a bellbottom manner before hanging loosely, hiding his limbs.

The pants also fit perfectly.

All in all, the outfit made him look roguishly handsome.

Long black tail flicking around, he carefully pulled the hood up and hid the horns on his head, teal eyes gleaming like a cat's from within its shadow.

"How do I look?" he hesitantly asked, shaking the shirt out and looking down at himself. "They _feel_ extremely comfortable, but I've never actually worn clothes like this before, so..."

"You look... rather dashing, actually," Amelia told him, heavily amazed. "Those clothes really suit you."

"Thanks," he murmured, frigid eyes unexpectedly mellowing out. "I appreciate you giving them to me."

It wasn't exactly a smile, but at least it had taken the emptiness in his eyes away for a moment.

Amelia watched as he silently returned to the fireplace and sat down again, staring off into space. He did this so often that it was unnerving: he always seemed to be looking off at something distant that she couldn't see. She took note of his taciturn mood and kept an observant eye on him while she ground up more herbs.

And while she did, she mused over things.

Xaphile hadn't left her home for real since he'd used his magic to restore Marty's tree. She'd spotted Kirby sitting near the now-empty cage several times, but the little boy hadn't visited them since his grandfather had forbade it.

Amelia had also come and gone frequently during the week, since she constantly did trade with people outside of the safety of her home, but she and Xaphile only ever conversed during mealtimes.

Which, it should be noted, he now prepared.

In his own words, he didn't feel comfortable sitting back and doing nothing. Nor did he feel comfortable living off of her for free: he'd actually demanded that she give him some sort of set task, so she, ever lacking good ideas, had spontaneously decided to give him the duty of making their meals since she hated cooking.

Out of everything so far, she had been the most surprised to discover that he was excellent at it.

Everything he made seemed to taste delicious, particularly the dishes he made with eggs.

He was a genius with eggs.

While she worked, time seemed to fly by as it always did... she had gotten nearly sixteen remedies ground up and mixed into several small containers when Xaphile finally stood up. She blinked and turned to look at him, then glanced at the window in surprise: the late afternoon sun was shining into the kitchen.

It was getting dark.

"Oh, dear," she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "I lost track of the hour! Is it time to make supper already?"

"Yes," he softly confirmed, not meeting her gaze. "I'll get started if you want me to."

"By all means, Phil," she yawned, putting her medicines away with a satisfied smile. "There's a basket of freshly bought eggs, herbs. and vegetables in the basket over near the bread oven."

That was all it took.

Walking over to the sheet of metal he'd asked for on his second day of kitchen duty, he gripped it and headed over to the fireplace.

Setting the sheet across the flames with the help of four metal pegs he'd driven into the wall several days ago with her permission, he headed back over to the basket and began to pull things out.

Seven eggs, a myriad of vegetables, and various spices.

Using the counter, he began chopping up the plants with deft movements, mesmerizing her like always. His tail gently flicked back and forth as he worked, occasionally brushing against the wall behind him. After he finished dicing, he grabbed a second thin sheet of metal and a huge handful of pickled olives resting in a nearby jar before heading over to the fireplace again.

Squatting down, he held his hand above the makeshift oven tray and crushed the olives, dripping their oily juices onto the heated metal until it was fully coated. Then he skillfully cracked the eggs across the top of it and sat back, wrapping his arms around his knees with watchful eyes.

His furry ears bobbed a bit and his tail flitted back and forth as he squatted in front of the fireplace.

His actions never ceased to amaze Amelia.

Until he'd arrived, she had never before seen food prepared in such a manner, so it was actually rather interesting to watch.

After about seven minutes, he finally stood back up and added the vegetables, then began to push the eggs around with the second sheet of metal.

He did this for nearly fifteen minutes.

Then, donning her oven mitts, he pulled the metal sheet out of the fireplace and carried it to the kitchen counter. After another seven minutes of letting it cool down, he carefully took two of her china plates out of a nearby cupboard and piled them both high with even portions of food before setting them down at her table.

Amelia, wide-eyed with wonder, immediately started clapping without thinking. She couldn't help it: watching him cook felt similar to the time she'd seen a street performer's most impressive act.

"Why do you always start clapping?" Xaphile muttered, face turning red. "All I did was make dinner."

"Like I've said before: it's impressive no matter how often I see it!" she exclaimed. "It's so unorthodox that I can't help it!"

"Whatever," he mumbled, letting out a huff before carefully sitting down. "It's scrambled eggs. Nothing special."

"I beg to differ," she retorted, popping a bite into her mouth and crooning in delight. "It's _very_ special! And utterly _delicious_!"

He didn't respond to her enthusiasm, instead choosing to eat. His eyes were listless, and he didn't seem to have much energy. Glancing at his clawed hand, which was resting on the table, Amelia took note of the unpleasant emotions resting behind his irises.

Struck by a strange desire to make him feel better, ever so slightly, she set her hand on his and gently squeezed, trying to offer him reassurance. She felt uncertain about it for a moment, but when his eyes merely flicked up to stare at her, she relaxed.

"If there's anything I can do to lessen the weight of whatever is causing your sadness," she finally murmured, "just tell me, okay? I understand that your first impression of our village was horrible, but I want to help you."

He instantly tensed.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine," he quietly retorted, closing his eyes. "Don't worry about me."

Ever so gently, he pulled his hand out of hers.

When he returned to his food, he became more and more abstracted, eating mechanically with his slanted eyes fixed unseeingly on the wall. Amelia had an uncomfortable suspicion that while Xaphile's body might have been there at the table, his spirit was far away in some remote place.

And she also felt a bit guilty since she knew it was her fault for saying anything.

When the meal ended, he came out of his reverie and stood up to wash the dishes.

"Thank you for the food," Amelia murmured, watching as he carefully cracked his back. "After you're finished, would you like to take a stroll with me? I'm sure it would be a nice change from sitting around all day... especially since it's going to be a clear night! The stars are always brightest this time of year!"

Xaphile thought about it with a frown.

He hadn't really done anything aside from sit around and do chores. Going for a walk might have been a decent distraction from his thoughts.

"Do you really want me to come?" he asked, frowning as he collected the dishes. "People in this town seem to be scared of me."

"Not anymore!" Amelia exclaimed, beaming at him. "In fact, today people asked about how you were doing."

"Really?" he asked, looking mildly surprised. "People were asking about me?"

"Yes, so it's quite all right," Amelia explained, folding her arms. "Will you come?"

"Fine... I guess I'll go with you," he murmured, then he shook his head and brought the plates over to the tray. "But first, I need to get to the dishes."

With a sigh, he set them down on the board and lifted it into his arms. Ignoring Amelia's gaze, he hefted the dishes outside and over to a small section of grass. Then he went back indoors and grabbed a bucket before trotting over to a nearby water pump at the edge of the cobblestone street.

With several powerful strokes, Xaphile began pumping water into it, face tight with concentration. Until two days ago, he hadn't fully realized just how far behind in technological development the world he'd ended up in really was. It was mostly little things, but it was a big deal to him.

For example, there were no electrical outlets in the walls of Amelia's home, and all of the lights within came either from oil lamps, strange magic crystals that she called Lacrima, or candles.

Foods that were quick to expire also couldn't be kept for a long time without ice magic, since they hadn't invented a refrigerator yet.

Which also, once again, ran on electricity.

There wasn't even any running water in the kitchen: no sink, no faucet, nothing. Washing the dishes was a pretty big chore in comparison to how it had been back home: he had to pump the water himself and wash them in a bucket outside.

There were two places he could get clean water: the pump, and a nearby well that he was _way_ too scared to approach since it was nearly identical to the well he'd seen in the movie ' _The Ring'_.

There were also no modern vehicles, and no modern bathrooms: everything was horse-pulled, and there were outhouses instead of toilets.

Even the bath in Amelia's washroom was unusual: according to her, the aqueduct pulled water from an underground well, where it was sent to a magical basin somewhere within her home. After being heated to a set temperature, it roared down a wooden contraption that had been built into the wall and automatically filled the tub.

It was a bizarre combination of practical science and what seemed to be real-life magic.

"I wish I was a genius with cars and modern things like other guys my own age," he grumbled as he scrubbed. "If I knew how it all worked, maybe I could find a way to give these folks a hand with new-age conveniences. Such as a working toilet, for example... or indoor plumbing."

There were other things that also tried to eat away at him, and each time he thought about them, he felt cold creeps crawling across his flesh: he'd been in one shit storm after another since showing up in wherever the hell this was, so there hadn't exactly been any time to think.

There had been no time to ask the basic questions.

 _Why am I here?_ he wondered. _Why am I not dead? Where is this place? The afterlife or another planet? An alternate reality that's different from my own, but similar enough to greatly resemble it?_

He had no answers.

No closure.

Even after a week, he was desperately holding onto a philosophy that belonged to an entirely different world.

"Phil," Amelia called, making him pause in his scrubbing. "Is it all right if I bring your metal tray out?"

"Sure!" he called back, tail thumping against the grass. "I'll be done soon!"

She instantly swept outside and gracefully set it on the grass, then grinned at him and walked back inside. True to his word, he started scrubbing with all his might, thinking about everything that had happened. He robotically continued washing the plates with a somewhat glazed look in his eyes.

Eventually, though he had nothing left to scrub, so he just sat there on his knees.

Staring off into space.

Know that he had killed himself but having no idea why things were the way they were.

He could still remember the feeling of his father's heart medication dulling his body's movements... even more, though, he remembered the bullet.

The agony that had roared through his skull.

How was it that he was still alive?

Finally, he stood up and carried the tray inside, setting the clean dishes on the table. Once he finished putting them away, he walked over to the fireplace and slid to the ground again.

The sun had already slipped below the horizon, and the first stars were winking into existence when Amelia came into the room. To his surprise, her glasses were off and her braids had been undone.

Her hair was glossy, thick, and quite curly.

She was smiling.

Humming a little tune, she gently brushed her glossy brown hair, then smoothed the front of her rich brown dress. It was an old-fashioned high-collar sort of gown.

Blue eyes bright, she looked at him with a grin.

"I'm ready to go," she peeped, clasping her hands. "Are you?"

Wordlessly, he stood up and stalked towards the front door, not meeting her eyes.

By the time they started along the road, the sun had slid below the horizon and twilight had descended upon Chisago. Xaphile lifted his gaze to the sky, truly looking at it for the first time since he'd awoken in the forest.

Shock zapped him like lightning.

The stars were different.

There was no North Star... the big dipper was gone, and instead of seeing just a myriad of dots in the sky, it was almost as if the heavens had opened their doors and unleashed their splendor.

The dark, night sky was full of light and color... flecks of green, distant galaxies...

It was beautiful, but in a cold, lonely way.

This world had a moon, too, but it was larger and much paler than the one he was used to.

"Where am I?" Xaphile abruptly asked, not even realizing that Amelia had glanced back at him. "This place... this isn't where I was born and raised."

"Well, that may be so," she murmured, gently folding her hands, "but Fiore is a truly beautiful country. I'm sure you'll come to see that, as well."

"That's not what I meant," he quietly retorted. "The name of this country is called Fiore, right? What about this world?"

"Eh?" Amelia murmured, halting and turning around to face him with wide eyes. "The... name of this... world?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "Tell me."

"Earthland," she told him, smiling a little. "This world's name is Earthland. Do all woodland sprites not know about that? Or is it yet another unfortunate aftereffect of your memory loss?"

The ground dropped out from beneath him.

His suspicions had been right.

He was no longer on the Earth he knew.

Xaphile didn't respond to her question; merely looked into the abyss of beauty resting so high above him. Slowly lifting his clawed hands, he took his hood off, revealing the horns sticking out of his skull. Revealing his fur-covered ears.

A cold wind swept through the street, but he didn't notice.

He simply gazed at the sky with eyes that reflected the stars above.

Tentatively raising his arm, he stretched his hand out to them, wondering if the planet he'd been born and raised on was hidden somewhere among those distant galaxies. For a long moment, he just stood like that, praying someone would take his hand... someone from the real world, anyone.

But nobody was there.

His arm trembled as he held it out to the sky.

Glitter and diamonds... that's what these stars were.

They were cold.

Unfamiliar.

And he was here, alone.

The only one who didn't know them.

Slowly lowering his hand, Xaphile shivered and continued staring at the sky with a bleaker expression.

For the first time, he truly wanted to go home.

To Connie... to the world.

 _His_ world.

This place... this wasn't even the same planet he'd been born and raised on.

It was obvious.

He didn't know how, or why, he was here... he didn't even understand his body, or how Ella was still alive in wherever he was. But the one thing he did know, even without any set fact to go with, was that the situation he'd ended up in was a permanent one.

He'd felt it deep in the marrow of his bones the moment he'd woken up as his new self for the first time: this was his new reality until he could end things all over again.

All he could really do at this point was roll with whatever came his way.

"Phil?" Amelia asked, tilting her head. "Are you all right?"

At the sound of her voice, his eyes finally fell and landed on the dirt.

He didn't want to raise them to the sky again.

If he did, he would see things that made him unbearably sad.

When he started walking down the cobblestone path again and moved past Amelia, he didn't notice how intensely she was looking at him, even when she hefted her skirts and trotted up again.

"Are you all right?" Amelia asked again, making him turn his head. "What are you thinking about?"

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "It's nothing."

"But whenever you say that, I only worry more," she sighed, moving forward and setting a hand on his arm. "Look... I understand that you're probably very... mistrusting of me."

"Mistrusting?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "After all, my people did some pretty terrible things to you... but I swear, I won't betray your trust. If something is troubling you, then... you can tell me. I promise."

He stared at her, startled in more ways than one.

"I'll admit that your friendliness is strange," he quietly admitted, "but you're one of the only three people in this town who's shown me kindness of any sort. I've already been given more than I can ask for."

For a long moment, the strangest expression seemed to flash through her eyes.

Turning, she gazed up at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean?" she demanded. "You keep saying that, but why?"

That's when it happened.

Frigid irises mellowing into puddles of aquamarine, he shrugged awkwardly and gave a weak smile.

Her face went slack.

"That's just how it is," he croaked. "I'm just grateful not to be locked in a cage anymore. At the very least, I should handle my own problems without any outside help... that's how I've always done things."

"Phil..."

"Plus," he interrupted, "even if I did explain half the crap eating away at me, there's no way you would be able to understand it."

She bristled, looking a little upset.

"And just why ever not?" she quietly demanded. "What makes you think I wouldn't understand?"

"Simple," he softly retorted, lowering his eyes. "I don't even understand most of it myself."

She stared at him, brow knit with worry and a little frustration.

"Tell me what's bothering you and let me be the judge of whether I can understand or not," she finally told him, folding her arms and tapping her foot. "I want to help you, so please, tell me."

His ears drooped and he sighed.

She just wouldn't quit, would she?

"If you really must know, fine," he muttered. "I can't seem to understand anything. I mean, this world for one thing... I don't know anything about it. What is magic? What's this strange power I suddenly seem to have? What are the names of the cities around here? The countries? I don't know anything about anything."

Her eyes flashed with recognition, and her face softened into a sympathetic expression.

"If that's all it is, I can definitely help you," she stated firmly, stepping forward. "I have a great many books-"

She stopped talking and let out a squeak when her shoe caught on an uneven cobblestone. Flailing, she tried to catch her balance, but she failed and fell forward.

Before she could hit the ground, however, a set of strong arms caught her... and for a split second, the warmth of his body engulfed her.

Tendrils of his dark hair billowed around her like a cloud as she was carefully pulled upright.

Lifting her eyes, she blinked at Xaphile's exotic blue-green irises. For nearly ten seconds, they made pure eye-contact, then she jumped, backed away, and bowed.

"T-thank you..." she stammered, face turning red. "That would have been a nasty fall."

"No problem," he muttered, dragging his hood up with a sigh. "Just watch your step."

Amelia blinked and fiddled with her thumbs, mentally scolding herself for purposely leaving her glasses behind. They actually hurt her eyes quite a bit, and it felt nice to not wear them once in a while.

But because she was blind as a bat without them, accidents like the one she had almost had occurred quite frequently.

"I apologize," she sighed, turning and heading back towards her home. "Let us return home... we've had a nice walk, and I'm sure Lady Ella will be arriving soon."

He froze in his tracks.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, furrowing his brows. "What is she... coming for?"

"She wants to discuss something with you," Amelia explained, not turning around. "I'm not sure what, exactly. She'll be arriving at any time, so we should probably head back sooner rather than later."

Xaphile lowered his eyes to the dirt, expression growing hollow from the inside out.

He didn't want to deal with the doppelganger.

But in the end, it apparently didn't matter.

After all, these days, he never got what he wanted.


	16. Chapter 16: Council

**Chapter Fifteen: Council**

Upon returning to the house, Xaphile sat down in front of the fireplace with a sigh.

Staring off into space, he merely pondered his situation with a feeling of hopelessness that stretched deep down into the very core of his being.

He had absolutely no energy.

Amelia, on the other hand, hurried off to fetch her glasses the moment after they arrived. And as he sat there, staring at the wall with sightless eyes, she returned with a huge stack of books in her arms. Xaphile watched as she gently eased herself into the wicker rocking chair. Breathing a little heavily, she set the dusty tomes down in front of him.

He bit back a sneeze when a cloud rose up from the stacks.

"What are you doing?" he asked, watching as she began sorting through them. "What's with the books?"

Instead of answering, she merely continued flipping through them... then beamed in delight.

"Found it!" she exclaimed, grabbing a specific book and dusting the dark maroon cover off. "All right... are you ready?"

"For what?"

"I didn't get a chance to finish our conversation earlier," she explained, flipping the book open, "but you said you were unhappy because you didn't understand anything about the world around you, right?"

"Yes," he blankly confirmed. "What's your point?"

"Well, in all actuality, there's a way for me to help you," she chirped, smiling at him. "Even though I can't recover your missing memories, I _can_ , at the very least, teach you a few things from scratch!"

Xaphile's eyebrows raised slightly, but his irises were still devoid of any reflective sheen.

"Teach?" he asked. "As in lessons? Schooling? That kind of stuff?"

"Essentially," Amelia confirmed, giving him a curt nod. "First, however, I'm going to explain a few things about Earthland that you truly need to know. It's basic knowledge."

"Fine. Go ahead."

"First of all, Fiore is a Monarchy, ruled by our current King, Toma Fiore," she explained. "However, there are many other Kingdoms on this continent aside from our own."

When he quirked an eyebrow, she sighed.

"The first two are Fiore's northern neighbors, the countries of Bosco and Seven," Amelia explained, tapping her chin with a thin white finger. "Bosco is a Monarchy like ours, ruled by a man named Grinwald Ein Vindrael. He's a rather brutish person, but from what I've heard he's an honest and very generous ruler."

"And the other country?" Xaphile asked, frowning. "Is it just as weird?"

"Seven doesn't associate with outsiders unless they're trade merchants or part of a Wizard's guild," she sighed, shaking her head. "Rumor has it that they're just as closed off as the Sky Queens, who supposedly still govern most oft Fiore's southeastern rain forests."

"I find this very confusing," he muttered.

"Then, let's start with the more pressing topics, first," she sighed, giving him a dismayed look. "Things that may take a lot of time to explain can wait. Right now, you don't seem to know anything about magic, and that can be very dangerous for a creature like you, since magic in general is a part of your being."

"Huh?" Xaphile asked, looking at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," Amelia countered, kindly shaking her head. "You used powerful earth magic several days ago, but whether it was simply an instinctive use or a planned one, the fact that you continued going even though it was physically draining your body speaks volumes. Magic isn't something you should take lightly... it's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Xaphile lowly inquired, narrowing his eyes. "How dangerous?"

" _Very_ dangerous," she murmured, lowering her eyes and uncomfortably sliding her hand across the weathered parchment. "Not only to the caster, but also those around him, too, at a stretch. So, in order for you to have a better understanding of what it is and how it works, I'm going to teach you the basics of it until Lady Ella arrives. And I'll continue teaching you what I know, every day, for as long as you stay here."

"Why?" he finally asked, suddenly feeling irritated for some unknown reason. "Why help me?"

She was silent for a long while.

So long, in fact, that he assumed she wasn't going to reply.

Just as he looked away, her voice filled the air, coming so soft that his ears involuntarily twitched.

"It was your song."

"What?" he asked, glancing at her with furrowed brows. "What did you say?"

"The song I heard when you were still locked up in that horrid cage," she softly explained. "I heard it through my kitchen window. That night, the sorrow in your words lanced my heart. I don't care what you are. it doesn't matter to me. I cannot simply stand by and watch the suffering of another."

His eyes narrowed, and the irritation increased to the point where it finally touched the ice inside his chest.

Like an ember, it ignited feelings he hadn't felt in a while.

"That kind of thinking could get you in serious trouble someday," he growled. "What if I _had_ been a monster?"

"But you're not," Amelia replied sharply, although not unkindly, "and that's the only thing that matters."

He couldn't fire back a retort since she was right.

"Why do I need to learn about magic?" he carefully inquired, making her pause. "Why is it so important?"

"Like I said, its dangerous to be ignorant," Amelia told him. "In order for you to understand _why_ it's important, we need to start with the basics. You'll learn why soon enough, and after that, I'll attempt to teach you how to use your magic to the best of my abilities. I was puttering around all week scrounging these books up."

"All week?" he scoffed, furrowing his brows. "Seriously?"

"Yes," she confirmed, flipping through several pages of the book with a twinkle in her eyes. "And here's your first lesson: knowing what you really are."

"This should be good," he grumpily sighed, finally giving in and letting his head thump against the wall.

"You, my good sir, are a sprite," she pensively told him, scanning the page. "There are many kinds of Faeries, but sprites are the most powerful when it comes to magic ability. They all take different shapes depending on what element of nature they represent."

"Shapes?" he asked. "What kind of shapes?"

"Well, it says here that sprites look human in nature," Amelia explained, "but they have other qualities that set them apart from humans _and_ demons alike."

"This is confusing," he noted. "Are you saying that all faeries look somewhat human?"

"Not at all. Sprites are simply one species of Fae," Amelia absently replied. "There are primarily four types of forest sprite: water, earth, wind, and... primordial."

Xaphile didn't like the hesitant tone she took with the last one.

"Everyone keeps calling me the last one," he noted, tail curling around his legs, "but what is it?"

"The category of Fae that you fall under. It seems that my suspicions were correct," she said after a long moment. "Your physical appearance fits the book's description. It says here that each sprite resembles the element it's affiliated with... water sprites, for example, resemble humans made of that element: water."

He did a double take, then glanced down at himself.

"Well, since I'm obviously not soaking wet, thin air, or a plant," he sarcastically ground out, not liking the fact that he was being compared to something so strange, "I'm pretty sure I'm _none_ of those things."

"No, you're definitely one of the Primordial Fae," Amelia murmured, frowning for a moment; her eyes narrowed as she continued reading, skimming across the pages. "According to this book, primordial sprites are Primal creatures thought to be affiliated with all _three_ elements. Not _only_ that, they're bound to the land, and it says here that in ancient times, they were..."

She suddenly paused, eyes widening.

"What is it?" he demanded, hackles rising. "Tell me!"

"They... were thought of as _living gods_ ," she breathed, looking up at him in shock. "Divine beings."

He stared blankly, not comprehending what he'd just heard.

"Huh?" he drawled, eyes growing half-lidded. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"No, that's really what it says... see?" she sighed, lifting the book and tapping the page. "It says right here that humans revered the primordial sprites as Gods of Harvest, Fertility, and Life. The same way many of them revered the dragons! Phil, if you really are such a creature, you could have more sway over this Kingdom than King Toma! That's... a genuinely shocking revelation!"

He gaped at her.

"How the fuck could someone like me be above a king?!" he squawked. "That's impossible!"

"Well, if what I'm reading is true," Amelia murmured, frowning deeply, "primordial sprites probably hold more political sway because they're the reason our lands remain alive. The king rules the people, but _they_ rule the _land_."

"Seriously?"

Amelia lowered the book with a dazed expression and nodded.

"Yes. It makes sense, too. It really does make sense."

"Fuck that. I don't want power," he muttered, blankly glancing at the floor. "All I truly want is to die."

He'd finally said it to her.

There was no going back.

He was expecting anything from a startled gasp to a shout of dismay... perhaps even tears.

But what he got instead was something completely different.

"I know," Amelia murmured sadly, making him stiffen and look up; she was gazing at him with a very solemn smile, blue eyes soft and slightly sad. "I've known about your desire all along."

"Then why?" he asked, giving her a tired look. "Why did you stop her? And why are you trying so hard to get close to me?"

"I told you why. It's because I can't stand by and watch the suffering of another. I just can't. Human or not, you don't deserve to be in pain."

His eyebrow twitched and his tail lashed out so forcefully that he accidentally knocked something behind him over.

"You don't know me, or what love is," he stated quietly, giving her a very, _very_ dangerous expression, "and you definitely don't know the kind of happiness that comes with it. The feeling of someone who gave you their all from the moment they met you. The feeling of walking through life with someone, hand in hand, until they become a part of you that you can't live without."

"Huh?" she asked, looking at him in total alarm. "Well, yes, but..."

"Don't," he growled, closing his eyes and gritting his sharp teeth. "You've been nothing but kind to me, and that's why I want you to stick with the promise you made. I don't want you to try understanding my feelings. No matter what you do, you will never truly be able to understand the depths of my loss. So don't bother."

She was quiet for a moment, staring at him with a tight expression.

"Even so," she murmured, finally lowering her eyes, "it doesn't change the fact that people like me, who already know that we can't really do anything to alleviate the suffering of those around us, want to do something to help. Even though I may not understand your pain... I do understand that you're hurting. And I hate it. Isn't there anything I can do to help you?"

He regarded her with a somewhat lost expression.

"If you want to help," he quietly rasped, shoulders sagging in defeat, "don't bring up the fact that I'm hurting. I already know how I'm feeling, and the last thing I need or want is to constantly be reminded of _why_ I'm feeling that way. Nothing can ever take away this kind of pain, so instead of trying to help me work through it, help me take my mind off of it by distracting me from it."

Her eyes flashed with realization and she eagerly nodded, latching onto the line he'd thrown her.

"I'll do that, then," she exclaimed, lowering her eyes back to the book. "Now, back to our lesson on sprites... according to this, like the dragons of old, you are supposedly immortal... interesting."

 _That_ actually caught him off guard.

"Immortal?" he snorted, looking at her with startled eyes. "I'm not immortal! I can't be! Didn't I almost die the other day?"

"Yes," Amelia confirmed, nodding without lifting her eyes, "and that is precisely why abilities like yours can be dangerous if you don't know how to control them. Just because you're inept to aging does _not_ mean you're invulnerable to injury, poison, or illness. A fatal wound can kill you just as easily as it would me."

"Really?" Xaphile asked, furrowing his brows.

"Yes," she explained, flipping the page. "Plus, if you really _are_ the last primordial sprite of the south... and this book turns out to be accurate... if you somehow really do die, the whole southeastern half of this country would die with you."

He blinked rapidly and scowled, tail lashing out yet again in frustration.

"I keep hearing that everywhere I go, but it can't be true."

"Phil, the ties you have to this realm do not come from Magic alone," Amelia told him, "but you still have a lot of raw magical energy flowing inside you, even if you don't remember how to use it."

He frowned.

"How much is a lot?" he carefully demanded, lifting his clawed hand and peering at it.

"Well, it's obviously enough magic for the southern portion of this country to thrive and bloom so long as you're alive," she flatly told him, giving him a half-lidded expression. "Since the bond you have with Earthland is a part of your making, the forests of Fiore will suffer when you do."

"Then why would I ever need to use it?" he growled, barely holding his temper. "If all I need to do is live, why learn?"

"Because not knowing your limit is like playing with fire," she scolded. "What happened a few days ago is proof enough that you've already been burned once."

He merely looked at her.

"I see," he sighed, finally closing his own eyes. "By all means, then."

Just as she opened her mouth, there was a sudden banging noise from the front of the house. Amelia glanced up in surprise before primly closing the book and setting it down on the top stack.

Getting to her feet, she looked down at him.

"We'll continue this later," she said simply. "Ella seems to have arrived."

He winced, but refused to move when she whisked off. Not long after she left the room, several voices split the air. Among them was a surprised exclamation from Amelia. For a few minutes, there was low chatting at the end of the hall. He let out an exhausted sigh when Ella herself waltzed into the room with three people following her.

Angelo, Octavius, and...

Xaphile straightened up when his eyes landed on the last person.

She had long, platinum blonde hair that had been tied into pigtails, and soft brown eyes that gleamed and danced as she walked. Her crop-top white t-shirt was low-cut, revealing a wide expanse of cleavage, and her short black skirt revealed a great expanse of her long white legs.

Attached to a belt at her hip was what looked like a whip, and a ring of shiny keys.

She peered around, hands daintily clasped behind her back, and eventually those brown eyes landed on him.

A brilliant, beautiful smile lit up her face: she raised a hand, giving him a distinctly girly wave.

He stared at her in shock, not believing his eyes, and almost called out to her... but he caught himself right before her name left his mouth. Swallowing hard, he slowly retreated further within his hood, shoulders bunching up to his ears. He had made that very mistake once before.

He wouldn't make it again, no matter how alike they looked.

The girl who had walked into the room definitely wasn't Lucinda Hartman.

She was another doppelganger.

It was obvious, since the Lucinda he knew would never reveal that much skin.

She had taken a lot of pride in dressing like a Grandmother, as she'd always put it.

But still... the fact that they were so identical, physically, was eerie.

She blinked at him when he didn't return her wave, then shrugged and returned to looking around.

Ella, ignoring the fact that he was blatantly staring at the blonde girl who'd entered, cocked her hip.

"You," she growled, lifting a finger and pointing at him. "Up."

The moment she said it, an unidentifiable fury filled the void in his heart.

He slowly opened his eyes and slightly turned his head, giving her a ferocious glare.

"I'm not a dog," he quietly countered.

Ella stiffened when she noticed how furious he looked: for a long moment, she merely blinked since it was an expression conveyed only through his eyes. Hatred... anger... where sorrow had been only days before, fury now stood. With a huff, he let his head thump back down against the brick.

The captain of the guard, however, didn't take kindly to his defiance.

"Do as she says, boy," he growled, folding his arms with a cold expression. "Don't make me force you."

In an instant, his temper snapped.

Eyes flying open, he whipped his head to the side and bared his fangs, face twisting in a grotesque manner.

Everyone jumped and backed away when a loud, frightening, lion-like snarl left his mouth.

With venomous animosity, he growled from somewhere deep in his chest, vibrating muscles he didn't even know he had.

"I'm not a dog, so don't order me around like one!" he spat, tail lashing violently. "I've had enough. I've already made a deal with her that goes against my own wishes, so leave me the hell alone! Just go away!"

When he turned away with a snort, Ella's jaw dropped.

Before she could say anything, however, Amelia walked over.

Gently kneeling down in front of him, she lifted a hand and set it against his cheek.

His growling died away after he turned to look at her.

"Phil... please," she mumbled, giving him a halfhearted smile. "I know you're upset, and you have every right to be mad at us. I truly do understand... but please, for now... can you spare a few moments?"

His anger faded into a horrible hollow sensation.

Muscles going limp, he looked at Amelia's pleading blue eyes for a moment, then reluctantly stood up.

"Amazing," Angelo snorted, folding his arms. "I'm surprised you managed to control such a beast."

In a flash, it happened.

One second she was kneeling in front of Xaphile, the next she was slapping the captain of the guard across the mouth. Gus gasped and stared with an open mouth, Ella's brows twitched, the blonde girl lifted her hands in front of her with a startled expression, and Angelo looked stunned.

Lifting a hand, the man rubbed his jaw before glaring down at the dark-haired girl.

However, she was glaring just as fiercely.

"Let's not forget our places, shall we?" she calmly enunciated, speaking with such careful precision that it was almost painfully obvious just how angry she was. "After all, in his eyes, _we're_ the beasts. From here on out, if you set foot in my home, I would appreciate it if you would address the young man by his name. Am I clear?"

"His name?" Ella muttered, folding her arms. "Oh, wonderful! So, what will it be? Xaphile? Or, perhaps... _Phil'_?"

The sarcasm was obvious, but Amelia's gaze was firm.

"Either will work," she stated quietly, giving the albino a very reserved expression. "I call him Phil simply because his name is hard for me to pronounce. If you remember correctly, dear Ella... I nearly had my tongue cut off. I still have trouble with certain words, as I'm sure you know."

Ella immediately winced.

"Point taken," she quietly muttered. "Let's start this over."

"Wonderful," Amelia sighed. "Thank you for understanding."

"Hey, um, not to interrupt," the blonde girl tentatively chimed, lifting a hand with an awkward smile on her face, "but, why exactly am I here? I was told this job was a simple ingredient retrieval expedition."

"The nature of the job changed drastically during the time it took you to arrive here," Ella cordially explained, giving her a polite glance before pulling a pouch out of her cloak. "Here. I'm giving you one hundred thousand crown jewels upfront, since the job in itself has been upped to a reward of one million crown jewels."

"ONE MILLION?!" the blonde girl shrieked, eyes practically bugging out of her head. "WHAT?!"

"All will be explained before the night is over," Ella said simply, giving her a look. "You may decide whether or not you wish to accept my offer once you hear what we have to say."

The blonde jumped when she dropped the pouch in her hands, but her face split into a delighted grin not long after. When she began to dance around, clutching the pouch, Ella turned away from her. Xaphile watched with frigid eyes as she let out a huff and stomped up to him, folding her arms.

"We need to have a talk," she rapped out, regarding him with firm eyes. "In order for us to understand the circumstances surrounding the strangeness of your behavior towards me, we need to hear your side of the story. I want you to tell us everything that came before Octavius found you in the woods."

He stared at her, eyes growing colder than hell frozen over.

"Can you handle the truth?" he demanded, tilting his head. "Even if I tell you, I don't think you'd believe it."

She didn't respond for a long moment: her eyes had dropped from his face down to his chest, and lower. Then they'd moved back up, lingering on the black fur streaking across his exposed skin. For several seconds, nothing was said... but then, his tail twitched violently in irritation and he growled again.

The sound was so ferocious that she actually jumped, face abruptly turning red.

"I... I... erm... well, yes," she groused, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No matter. Let's just sit down and discuss this already."

With that, she stalked over to the kitchen table and sat down in one of the six wooden chairs around it.

"I'll make us some tea," Amelia chirped, heading straight for the cupboards. "Any preferences? Sugar?"

"One cube for me," Gus grunted, seating himself beside Ella with Angelo on her other side. "Thank you."

"Two for me, please!" the blonde called, looking to be in very high spirits; she held the pouch of money close to her and happily wriggled back and forth. "This alone is enough to pay my rent with a few jewels left over!"

Her delighted mumbling went mostly unnoticed, although Angelo did inconspicuously roll his eyes.

Feeling more than a little pissed, Xaphile stalked over to the chair farthest from them and sat down.

"What do you want to know?" he curtly demanded, not wanting to beat around the bush. "Ask away."

"Start with where you came from," Ella snappishly retorted. "And when I say that, I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I mean. I want you to tell us where, specifically in _your_ memory, you lived."

"Yes... where _did_ you come from?" Gus quietly asked. "I did indeed think there was something strange about your responses when I asked."

Xaphile unfolded his muscular arms, mouth pulling into a tense frown.

"I'm from a country called the United States of America," he stated simply; in return, he was given five identically blank stares. "Yeah, sounds crazy, right? Well, believe it. It's the truth."

Unnoticed and unseen, Amelia's hands froze above the teakettle and her body fell completely still.

"I've never heard of such a place," Angelo muttered, shaking his head contemptuously. "Folly."

"America, huh?" Gus chimed in, rubbing his beard with pondering jade green eyes. "It's probably some little island out in the middle of nowhere... right?"

Xaphile stared at him with a disbelieving expression.

"America," Amelia murmured, scratching her head. "One moment, I think I have a map of Earthland lying around somewhere."

When she hurried away from the half-prepared teakettle and vanished down the main hall, the blonde girl followed her path with confused brown eyes, then glanced around in confusion. Taking note of the grim expressions in the room, Lucinda's doppelganger folded her arms with a slight frown.

"Hey," she murmured, drawing the gazes of those around her. "I get that this is a job opportunity, but seriously, why is everyone so grim?"

"It's a long story," Gus muttered, shooting her a look. "Please, ask those questions later."

"Indeed," Ellla agreed, letting out a huff before returning her attention to Xaphile. "So, this... America of yours was where the _other_ me lived. How did the two of you know each other? How did you fall in... _love_?"

Xaphile's expression cracked like glass, and for a long moment, he was assaulted by a powerful ache.

He had to take a moment to choke back his feelings.

He was relieved when the ice was once again fused inside the hole where his heart had once been.

"You're really cruel, you know that?" he muttered, not looking at her.

"Eh?" Ella asked, startled by the unexpected statement. "What did I do? I was merely asking a question!"

"Don't worry about it," he retorted, letting his head thump back against the chair. "Fair warning. I'm only going to explain things once, so don't interrupt me."

"You have my word that I will not," Ella grunted, looking irritated with his demanding attitude. "Now, speak."

Xaphile was quiet for a long time.

His chest was hurting... he felt sick, remembering the cause of his suffering... the beautiful world that had been bestowed upon him, only to be wrenched away at its most wonderful moment. He hated Ella's evil doppelganger more than anything else in the world right then.

After a moment, he used his oldest pain tactic and let his consciousness float away from him.

He became detached, the same way that he'd done countless times growing up.

Soon, his mouth was moving, but he felt next to nothing.

"I was born in Chicago, the capital city of Illinois," Xaphile croaked, voice coming out almost robotically. "America has fifty individual states even though its a unified country, and Illinois is one of them. My father wasn't the greatest of men, but my mother passed away when I was an infant... so he raised me alone."

"So?" Ella snipped. "What about the other me?"

When he cast her a glare, she promptly closed her mouth.

"Up until I hit the age of six," he continued, voice growing heavier and heavier with each word, "I was sort of on my own. Then, I met _her_... and from that moment on, she changed my whole world."

Even floating outside of himself, he felt the hurt of these memories.

This anguish was inescapable.

And as he spoke, the blonde girl's face went from mildly intrigued and eager to worried and attentive. The subtle shift in her expression went unnoticed, as did the way her brown eyes flicked from person to person.

"We were always together," he rasped, staring at the table with vacant eyes. "There was hardly a time when she wasn't by my side. Throughout the years... those moments were everything to me. The Ella I knew wasn't just my best friend... she was my other half. My soulmate."

"What... happened?" Gus demanded, looking a little tense. "Tell us."

Xaphile lifted his eyes to the ceiling again, remembering the cold snow from that night.

The sight of blood on his hands.

 _Her_ blood.

"We went to see a performance with her mother," he eventually whispered. "Hundreds of people were there. It was beautiful... one of the most incredible things I've ever seen. But after it was over, a madman launched an attack out of nowhere. Seven people, including Ella and myself, were badly injured because of him."

"What of the other me?" Ella demanded. "What became of her?"

"I already told you," he explained, casting her an empty expression. "She _died_."

Silence reigned free.

Lucinda's doppelganger was as rigid as a washboard.

"Whoa, hold up!" she exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table with wide eyes. "None of this makes any sense to me! What exactly are all of you talking about? What's all this talk about her other self? And if you really came from another world, how did you get to ours?"

"Long story short," Xaphile murmured, letting loose a sigh, "I took my own life."

The moment he said it, her brown eyes lost their reflective sheen and her hands rose from the table.

All she did was stare at him for a good ten seconds... then she slowly sank down in the chair.

"Lies!" Angelo barked, slamming his hand on the table. "You look _very_ much alive to me!"

"Calm yourself, Captain," Ella commanded, casting a furtive glance at the man before returning her attention to Xaphile. "You've said that you killed yourself several times now, but that doesn't answer the question. How exactly did you get here if you really were from another world? What led to your arrival?"

"I have no idea," he sullenly muttered. "I expected to go wherever it is dead people go once they die... but maybe, in a way, I'm already there. I'm truly beginning to think that this place might be my own personal hell."

Ella fell silent and looked at the table with a severely disturbed expression on her face.

Lucinda's doppelganger merely continued staring at him, obviously not understanding what was going on.

"That was much heavier than I expected it to be," Gus said after a long moment in time. "So... what you're saying is... you... ended your life?"

"Yep," Xaphile droned, closing his eyes. "Like I said, when I came to, I was in that forest with these bizarre changes in my body."

"Bizarre changes?" Angelo snorted, raising his brows. "What bizarre changes?"

"I never had a tail, or horns, or these freakishly long nails before waking up here," he explained, lifting an arm and flexing his long, black claws. "I didn't have this weird fur on my body, or furry ears, or sharp teeth... at the very least, I was a normal guy until I made the choice to end it."

"Wait, what?!" Lucinda whispered, staring at his hands in horror. "What _are_ you?!"

"That's what we're trying to figure out ourselves," Gus muttered, frowning at her. "We don't exactly know, but we think he's a-"

"What about your father?" Ella interrupted. "And this other Ella's mother? What of them?"

"It's not important," Xaphile muttered, fiercely scowling at the table.

"I say it is!" Ella snapped. "Tell me!"

"Well, you're wrong! My own father couldn't even remember the day I was born!" he spat back, making her recoil and frown at him. "He's probably happier that I'm not around anymore since I was just an extra mouth to feed! As for Connie... she kept telling me to move forward. So I did, in my own way."

Silence all over again.

None of them knew how to react to what he'd just told them.

Just then, Amelia burst back into the room with a long blue scroll tucked under one arm.

"Found it!" she panted, covered in dust from head to toe.

"It's about time," Ella sniffed.

Moving forward, Amelia unfurled the scroll with a whuff of displaced air and slammed it down in front of them.

Dust puffed into Xaphile's eyes, making him sneeze.

"So, about your homeland of America!" she eagerly exclaimed. "Where is it?"

"Right here," Xaphile wheezed, wiping his stinging eyes and simultaneously raising his finger to point at the left side of the map. "See?"

However, that's when he froze.

An unpleasant surge of ice slowy swept through him like a glacier. He stared at the map for a long moment, not comprehending what he was looking at, but then, his eyes slowly began to widen, mouth going slack.

"Well?" Ella asked, not really breaking into his stupor. "Speak up!"

He couldn't even hear her.

The map... had literally boggled his mind: it looked _nothing_ like the version of the world that had graced the inside cover of his high school geography textbook, and the biggest reason for the differences lay in the fact that the _entire western hemisphere appeared to be completely missing_.

It was _gone._

"It's not there," he stated, voice coming out as a pathetic croak that didn't sound like him at all. "I was right... this isn't even the same world."

"What do you mean?" Angelo asked, eyebrows rising in confusion.

"I mean that America isn't _there_! It's gone! The entire western hemisphere is _gone_!" Xaphile snapped, placing his finger on the map and tracing an outline of the missing continent. "If this was Earth, it would be right here! America, Canada, South America... they're all _gone_!"

It was true.

Even more oddly, Japan, Africa, and China were all still there, albeit slightly off center with their shapes.

Japan looked like a dragon that had gorged on too many cattle; the island chain looked bloated and top heavy, and China, across from it, stretched taller and broader than normal. Africa was upside down, Australia looked like an over-sized monster, and the European continent bled off into the sea in a slew of tiny islands.

Unfortunately, where America should have been lay a vast expanse of empty sea.

His fingers grazed over it for a long time.

Then he weakly raised his head, meeting Amelia's insistent gaze.

"Show me where it should be," she ordered, hurrying over to grab a quill and an ink pot. "Use this."

He was hesitant, but after taking the quill and dipping it in ink... with the lightest of sketches, he traced a vague outline of north and south America, etching them into their respective positions. He labeled the general region of the United States with an 'x' and took a moment to ponder what this could truly mean.

If this was a map of the world... then his reality, as shocking as it was, had turned utterly bizarre.

Because wherever this Earthland place was... it definitely wasn't Earth!

After a moment, he leaned forward and properly traced out the other missing places on the map, such as Europe. Then he drew Earth's Japan, Africa, and Australia, and labeled all of them.

"It should be right there," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "This isn't my world... there's no way..."

He was finally realizing just how far from home he really was.

"Well, this has been rather... insightful," Ella stated softly, not lifting her eyes. "Now to discuss the other topic we came here to talk about. It concerns the deal I made with you, and this young lady here."

"Eh?" the blonde girl asked, pointing at herself in alarm. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Ella confirmed, casting her a glance. "You are a Fairy Tail Wizard, after all... and we're genuinely going to need all the help we can get."

Xaphile lifted his eyes and regarded her coldly from within the shadows of his hood.

"And?" he asked lowly, voice so quiet it was barely a murmur.

"Long story short, you and I are going to be traveling together," she explained, tossing her close-cropped white hair. "A week from today, we're setting out to search for a necromancer and a dream walker."

Amelia, who had been putting the map away, dropped it almost immediately.

Face white with shock, she turned around and looked at them.

"A dream... walker?" she asked, blinking rapidly when they all turned to look at her. "Why in the world...?"

"Recalling the memories of the deceased," Ella explained. "The problem is, dream walkers are very rare wizards. Finding one who uses that kind of Lost Magic isn't going to be easy at all, and since Chisago is actually very far away from most of the major cities that wizards flock to, I'm pretty sure we'll get nowhere unless we actively look. None of the Fairy Tail Wizards can use the magic we need, unfortunately."

"My father was actually proficient in dream walking," Amelia said quietly, making Ella's eyes flash. "Among his talent for Pyromancy, he knew how to use many other types of Lost Magic."

"He disappeared on a job years ago," Ella retorted, scowling at her. "I understand where you're going with this, but in all honesty, don't you think the idea of him still being around is a little far-fetched?"

"Not at all," Amelia chuckled, making the albino gawk. "My Papa may have been many things, but weak was not among them... trust me, he's still alive somewhere. I can feel it. He was a Fairy Tail Wizard after all."

The blonde's eyes widened and she gasped.

"Your father is a Fairy Tail Wizard?" she asked, leaning forward. "Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed, nodding with a grin. "His name is Aeriker Von Dolan."

Ella became pensive, and for a long moment, she chewed on her lip.

"Fine," she finally barked, making Amelia jump. "You're coming, too, Amelia. If it turns out that your father is still alive and we get wind of it while we're out searching, I'm fairly certain you'll know what sort of tactic to take. You do, after all, seem to know him better than most."

"Eh?!" Amelia squeaked, looking genuinely startled. "B-b-but, what about... the poultices?! And my job as an herbalist?!"

"From today onward, I would recommend that you start working like crazy so your regular customers have whatever they need for as long as you can manage," Ella snorted, getting to her feet and signaling for the blondes to do the same. "Pack for a long, hard travel... don't go light. And don't bring materials that are easily destroyed by the elements. I expect both of you to be ready to depart by the end of the week."

"What about me?" the blonde girl asked, looking a little confused. "What am I here for?"

"To help Amelia gather some rare herbs for her poultices," Ella said simply, casting her a frown, "and after that is done, to join us on this personal mission as a body guard."

"A BODYGUARD?!" she cried, looking totally shocked. "Whoa, hold on! Just how dangerous is this journey, and why pick someone like me for a job like that?!"

"You're from the strongest Wizard's guild in the country," Ella said simply, folding her arms, "and you're also the one they sent to us, so you must be pretty strong. After all, those rare herbs Amelia needs are guarded by a nest of poisonous demons. It shouldn't come as a surprise. Everything was on the job offer."

"Just my luck," the blonde huffed, smacking her forehead. "It figures that the one time I decide to do a job without Natsu and Happy, something bigger happens."

"Will you take the job or not?" Ella growled, eyebrow twitching.

"Yes, I'll take the job," the girl said simply, patting her cheeks and squaring her shoulders. "I'm a Fairy Tail wizard, after all! One of the best, in my opinion!"

"I'll be the judge of that," Ella muttered, then said more clearly, "we'll supply the horses and provisions. Now, I'll be taking my leave. Amelia, I'm leaving the new arrival with you, since it was originally your job that she came for. I trust you'll provide her with everything she needs to know"

"Head to the Barracks if you need aid from the guards," Angelo grunted, putting his helmet on.

"Thank you for your time," Gus quietly added, then cast an uncertain look at Xaphile, who ignored it. "Stay well."

With that, the three of them left the room and made their way for the door, leaving the blonde girl behind.

The sound of it opening and shutting filled the air... and for a long period of time, there was silence.

"Well, I guess we'll be traveling," Amelia sighed, sounding thoroughly dismayed. "She really does decide things on a whim..."

"Is she always like that?" the blonde quipped, tilting her head. "She's young, but she seems kinda... cold."

"Do not take Ella's words to heart," Amelia soothed, shooting her a gentle glance. "She does not trust easy."

While they spoke, Xaphile merely stood up and walked away, heading down the hall.

However, he could feel Amelia's eyes on his back, so he halted.

"Good timing," he rasped, not turning around. "Thank you for coming back in when you did."

He knew she was startled by it.

But he didn't care.

After everything, once again... all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Hey!" the blonde called. "Where are you going?!"

"To sleep," he said simply. "I'm tired.

"Oh... well, goodnight, then?" she tentatively asked. "It was a pleasure to meet you!"

"Yeah," he muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground. "Goodnight, Lucinda."

" _Eh_...?!"

He didn't wait for a response.

It wasn't until after he was lying down that he realized that he'd called her by name.

 _Before_ she'd had a chance to introduce herself.

But it was too late to change anything, and he was past the point of caring, so he simply said fuck it, rolled over, and went to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17: Anger

**Chapter Fifteen: Anger**

 _It happened unexpectedly._

 _A good dream._

 _Or rather, a distant memory from when he was a very small child._

 _He could see a woman with jet black hair standing in front of a well-kept stove, happily humming a little tune under her breath. His father, sitting across from him, reading the paper despite his hulking size. His dad's unique teal eyes were mellow, and even though his face was expressionless, he looked happier than he'd been in years._

 _It really was a simple dream._

 _But despite that... he was... happy._

 _"Mama," he called, happily lifting his arms. "Mama... hug!"_

 _His mother's long black ponytail swirled when she happily turned and looked at him, sweeping forward with her arms stretched wide. That face... that smile... he had almost forgotten what his mother looked like. Had almost forgotten the way her almond-shaped eyes had twinkled when she'd looked at him._ _The eyes of a loving mother._ _She slowly stepped forward, leaning down towards him._

 _Those arms... those warm, loving arms... they were going to -_

"Phil!" somebody called, making his whole body jump. "Breakfast is ready!"

His mother's smiling face abruptly vanished like a cloud.

He groggily opened his eyes, clawed hands outstretched towards the ceiling.

Confusion made things fuzzy for a second, but when reality finally came back... it did so in a slow, painful manner. Taking a moment to sit up, he pressed his palm against his forehead then looked around the room.

His mother wasn't there.

Feeling a little sick, he lay back down and put his arm over his eyes, thinking about the dream.

As sad as it had made him feel upon waking, it had been a nice change from the usual nightmares.

He almost wished he could fall back into it.

Amelia brought him back to his senses, however, by opening the door of his room.

"Phil?" she called, peering at him with hesitant eyes. "Breakfast is ready..."

"What time is it?"

"it's very early in the morning," Amelia confirmed, drawing his gaze. "I'm waking you up because you haven't eaten anything in two days."

He sighed, then rolled over and lazily stretched his body like a cat would.

His tail flicked back and forth as he yawned, then drew himself back up to his knees. After cracking his neck, he slid out of bed and slinked over to the trunk resting against the wall, dragging out the first top he could find. It happened to be a hooded robe of some sort, but he didn't really care what it looked like.

Tugging it on, he fluffed his hair out before folding the blanket he'd been given.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Are we having guests today, too?"

"Yes," she sighed, averting her eyes when his face darkened. "I understand that the news probably makes you uncomfortable... but, please, at least eat breakfast today. You can't neglect your health."

He was silent for a moment.

"Fine," he eventually sighed. "Don't expect much social interaction from me, though."

"Thank you," Amelia breathed, letting out a sigh of relief. "Feel free to join us once you're ready."

He kept his face blank when she quietly closed the door, but his gaze darkened the instant she was gone.

Shoulders tense and mouth pulled tight, he contemplated his situation.

Ellameira Rochard didn't seem to respect him, because if she did, she'd have kept her distance since it was totally obvious he wanted to be nowhere near her. Five days had passed since she'd told them they'd be going on a trip, but Lucinda's doppelganger had been so spooked by his mistake with her name that she'd actually gone to talk to Ella about it.

Ever since then, the bad-tempered albino had been looking for little ways to get involved with Amelia's household and daily processes. She'd succeeded every time, too, to the point where she was there all day.

And because of that, Xaphile was hounded like crazy.

No matter what he did or where he went, even if it was only to the outhouse, he would spot an intense-looking Ella around each and every nearby corner, staring right at him with a suspicious expression. It had gotten to the point where he had been too annoyed to leave his room unless Amelia was nearby.

Unfortunately, even with the brunette around, Ella's hostility continued.

Lucinda, or rather, _Lucy..._ she seemed to be extremely uneasy around all of them since she could obviously sense the tension around her. Not that he blamed her for being uncomfortable: anyone dropped in the middle of a situation like the one he was stuck in would be uncomfortable, especially what with the hostility.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't know what was going on.

Especially since nobody had apparently told her what the villagers had done to him upon arrival.

In the end, though, the constant prickles of frustration and anxiety coupled with the way Ella was always watching him had seriously exhausted him, and before he'd even realized what was happening, he'd quickly fallen back into an extreme state of depression. For the past two days, there had been nobody for Ella to hound since Xaphile had done absolutely nothing but sleep.

His appetite had disappeared completely, and his desire to do anything had become virtually non-existent.

He hadn't eaten much of anything at all throughout the week, really.

The fact that Amelia had woken him up today, despite the fact that Ella was coming _again_ , was proof enough that she was worried. Taking a moment to calm himself, he glanced at the pink Lacrima hanging on the wall, mouth twisting a little. His old human face stared back at him, devoid of any expression whatsoever.

He gazed into the eyes that had once belonged to him.

The face that had once been human.

Then he moved forward, gently unhooked the Lacrima, and set it on the floor behind his clothing trunk.

Irritable, he left the room and made his way to the kitchen, where a battered teakettle was whistling on the fireplace. Amelia, Ella, Lucy, and Octavius were already sitting around the wooden table. An empty place had been set for one more with a plate of food waiting to be eaten, right across from the silver-haired girl herself.

Gus glanced up when he entered.

"Mornin', Phil!" he hesitantly greeted, munching on a loaf of fresh bread. "Sleep well?"

Xaphile merely looked at him with a blank face.

Gus obviously got the hint that he wanted to be left alone and returned to eating with no further talk.

Amelia, on the other hand, was a little too dense with other people's feelings to understand a facial cue.

"Good morning, Phil," she chirped, watching with grateful blue eyes as he walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed an apple. "I've prepared a plate of food for you."

"Thanks," he murmured, slowly sinking down into the seat. "I appreciate it."

With little fanfare, he picked up his fork and began to eat, not lifting his eyes.

If he didn't look up, he wouldn't have to deal with the doppelgangers.

Or so he hoped.

Amelia stood up and moved to take the teakettle off the fire. Pouring the contents into several different wooden cups, she carried them over to the table.

"Would you like tea?" she asked him; when he nodded, she set a mug beside him. "Careful, it's hot."

He gave her another nod and wordlessly continued eating, not feeling motivated enough to talk.

He silently spooned the rice and vegetables on his plate into his mouth. Eating such salty food for breakfast felt weird on his American taste buds, but as he ate, he tried his best not to think about pancakes dripping in syrup, waffles with fluffy whipped cream... danishes, donuts, lattes, mocha...

"So, what were you up to these last two days?" Ella suddenly asked, setting down her silverware with a clack. "It's pretty suspicious if you ask me."

Irritation filled him, swift and hot.

He reluctantly lifted his eyes, glaring through his long lashes with a threatening expression.

"Excuse me?" he quietly inquired. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ella," Gus warned, giving her a sharp glance. "Don't."

Fork in her mouth, Lucy's brown eyes uncomfortably darted between them, brows furrowed with worry.

"It was just a question," Ella sweetly explained, smiling with an innocent expression. "Can't I get an answer?"

Xaphile had officially been pissed off, but he decided to be the bigger person and responded to her question as politely as he could.

"I was sleeping," he quietly retorted, shaking his head before he went back to his food. "That's all."

"Well, I hope you're getting your beauty rest." Ella cooed, pointing her fork at him. "After all, we're leaving day after tomorrow. Be sure to sleep as much as you can."

"Will do," he said simply, refusing to raise his eyes again. "Now, with all due respect, leave me alone."

"Loosen up, spitfire!" Ella drawled, leaning forward. "We're all friends here! Unless you have something _else_ planned."

Yup.

That was it.

"I'm planning on throwing this food in your face if you don't stop making jabs at me," he snapped, finally setting his silverware down and lifting his eyes with a cold glare. "Look, you _aren't_ my friend, nor will you _ever_ be my friend. I can't even think of you as an acquaintance if I'm gonna be honest."

Her face darkened.

Folding her arms, she gave him a dark glare.

"Who was it that spared your life?" she inquired, tapping her arm with an irritated finger. "I _could_ have lopped your head off."

Lucy's eyes widened and she straightened up, paying more attention.

"Then I guess you _should_ have," he flippantly shot back, narrowing his eyes. "You'd better stop messing with me while you're ahead, because if you _don't_ , you're going to learn a whole new definition for the word _spitfire_."

Just as Ella opened her mouth to fire a retort, Amelia stepped in.

"That's enough," she stated quietly. "We shouldn't be fighting."

"I wasn't fighting," she innocently explained. "I was just concerned since he seems a bit mad."

Mad.

As in, crazy.

It was official: he wasn't sticking around.

Xaphile wolfed down the rest of his food and pointedly set his fork down, muscles rigid.

Standing up, he looked at Amelia.

"Thank you for breakfast," he curtly muttered. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

When he turned and tried to stalk out of the kitchen, Gus stood up and caught his wrist.

"Don't mind her," the man growled, ignoring how Ella stiffened in obvious offense. "She can be a bit crude when she's suspicious of someone's intentions, but once she gets to know you, she'll be much more civil. Trust me. Now, will you join me with some preparation making?"

Xaphile turned and looked at him blankly.

"What kind of preparations?"

"For the journey you'll be taking soon," Gus explained. "There are many things we still need to gather, and some of them are fairly heavy. I could use your help."

"Fine," he muttered, roughly tugging his hand free. "Come get me when you're ready to go."

Then he left the kitchen and pointedly went back to his room, closing the door behind him.

Setting his back against the wood, he glared at the floor, not wanting to think about anything. He could hear hushed speaking and the clanking of fine china as the dishes were cleared out, but footsteps sounded down the hall just as he was about to head over to the bed.

They stopped in front of his room.

He moved forward and glanced behind him when the doorknob turned, but when it opened, instead of seeing Gus... he saw Ella. His eyebrow twitched when she walked inside and closed the door again. It took all of his self control to keep his face devoid of expression.

"Let me make one thing clear," she snapped, walking up and jabbing a finger against his chest. "I don't like you, and I definitely don't trust you, but Amelia and Octavius have both expressed that they _do_ trust you and will _continue_ to trust you. For that reason alone, I am going to be watching you closely."

Bile rose up his throat and it was suddenly three times harder to bite back his irritation.

"I have no desire to see your face," he quietly informed her. "If you want to spy on me, do so where I can't see you. Now, with all due respect, please leave."

He lifted his arm and pointed at the door with a sharp claw.

"You've gotten fairly cocky," Ella calmly noted, abruptly clutching the front of his shirt and glaring up into his eyes with a threatening sneer. "Makes me want to hit you."

"Then go ahead and hit me," he shot back, lip curling in disgust. "If that'll get you away from me faster, hit me as hard as you can. Either way, I still want you out of my sight, so make your choice already and _leave._ "

"What if I say I don't _want_ to leave?" she sneered, eyes cold and calculating. "What will you do?"

It was then that he completely lost it.

Before she could react, he gripped her wrist and jerked it free of his clothes. When she tried to swing at him with her other hand, he caught it in a flash and roughly shoved her smaller body against the wall, pinning her arms high above her head. She squirmed, but couldn't get loose since he was a hell of a lot stronger than her.

Ella's eyes widened a little when she realized it.

Her pupils dilated when he bared his sharp teeth in an animalistic fashion.

"Do you really want to hang around me and find out what I'll do?" he quietly asked, leaning so close to her face that their noses almost touched. "I'm done with you. You may have the same face as the girl I loved, but you aren't her. You don't know me anymore than I know you. So don't think I'm going to be nice after everything you did to me."

"U-unhand me, this instant!" she squeaked, kicking him in the shins. "Right now!"

He ignored the pain in his legs and merely tightened his grip on her wrists.

Not enough to hurt her, but enough to let her know who was in charge.

"Your personality is disgusting," he said softly, making her stiffen. "Making threats, physical assault, kidnapping, and harassment... utterly disgusting."

"Then what do you want me to do?" she spat, mouth twisting in fury. "I've asked you once already how to atone for what I've done, and you told me to live!"

The hole in his heart somehow became even colder and angrier.

"Fine," he hissed, letting go of her and abruptly stepping back. "I have two more conditions for you to atone. Never touch me again, and from this day forward, I want you to stop talking to me unless absolutely necessary."

For some reason, she actually looked surprised.

"What?" Ella snorted, rubbing her wrists. "Of all the things you could ask for... why would you request something like _that_?"

"Because seeing her face on a woman like you makes me feel physically ill," he said simply, watching in grim satisfaction as her jaw dropped. "I get that you have a fucked up history, but regardless of what happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to treat me like your punching bag. I won't deal with your hostility, I won't tolerate your attitude, and I will never _like_ you."

He said this last part with such hostility of his own that she grit her teeth.

"Oh?" she sarcastically drawled, glaring up at him. "For some reason I doubt that. I mean, I _do_ have your lover's face, after all."

"You may have her looks," Xaphile coldly informed her, "but you are literally everything she _wasn't_. You're vindictive, cruel, and utterly ruthless. There isn't a nice bone in your body, and I don't like you. Nor will I _ever_ like you. So get the fuck over yourself. You're not pretty enough to get away with your awful personality."

Her face turned crimson with fury.

"So what?" she snapped, throwing her arms into the air. "I don't like you, either, but at least I tolerate you! That's something you should be grateful for!"

"Shut _up_!" he barked, roughly gripping the front of her shirt. "It's _that_ kind of shit right there that I hate! You keep talking to me as though I should be grateful to you! The only thing I have to say thanks for are the _scars_ on my back and the bruises all over my body!"

"What about your life?!" she shrieked. "Huh?! What about that?!"

He was so close to blowing his top it wasn't even funny.

"I'M NOT GRATEFUL TO BE ALIVE, YOU STUPID BITCH!" he roared into her face. "I killed myself once already for a fucking reason!"

"And yet, you're still here, alive and breathing," she angrily pointed out, gripping his wrists after he stopped jerking her around. "For _my_ sake, no less!"

His eyes narrowed, pupils sharpening into dangerous slits. Hands shaking, he let go of her and backed off once again, turning around and glaring at the wall. He'd never before had any sort of desire to punch a girl in the mouth as badly as wanted to right then. It was a terrible feeling, one that he hated with a passion.

"In all actuality," he hissed, "you're wrong."

"Wrong?" she demanded, frowning. "How am I wrong? That was the deal we made with each other. You promised to wait until it was certain that I would be fine."

"I couldn't care less about what happens to you," he growled. "Even if you absorb her memories, I won't be sticking around. Regardless of the outcome."

"What?" she scoffed, furrowing her brows. "But... what of me?"

When he turned around, his face was full of contempt.

"Don't delude yourself into thinking I care about you," he growled. "I don't give a shit if you have her face _or_ her memories. You aren't her. You will never _be_ her. And now that I'm aware of it, I feel no warmth towards you. Once I've spoken to her, and once I know where she really is, I'm following her there."

Ella's face went blank.

"You would damn the entire southern half of this country to death," she whispered, looking as though she couldn't believe her ears, "for your own personal desires?"

He smiled coldly, showing his sharp teeth.

"Considering the greeting I was given when I first arrived," he scoffed, giving a barking laugh that was devoid of any real humor, "I doubt it would be such a bad thing. If every single town is as bad as this one, I say to hell with all of you. I'm not going to suffer for the sake of your disgusting people."

"Disgusting?!" she shrieked, mouth dropping in outrage. "How dare you!"

"I dare quite frequently," he snorted, gently pushing her aside and opening his door. "Since you won't leave me alone, I'll do the honors and leave myself."

"Hey, don't you walk away from me!" she screeched. "Halt!"

He wanted to ignored her, but his temper snapped a second time.

His footsteps stopped and he tensed.

"Why?" he demanded, not turning around. "Don't you remember anything you said to me the night we made that promise?"

She froze.

"Excuse me?" she growled. "What does that have to do with you walking away?"

"Everything," he retorted. "Why would I talk to a hypocrite?"

"Hypocrite?" she scoffed, mouth falling open. "Oh, this is priceless! How in the name of everything good am I a hypocrite! Do tell!"

"You're just like that cat girl you mentioned... perhaps even worse," Xaphile quietly explained. "In a way, what you've done to me is similar to what she did to you. I don't associate with people who can't see when they're in the wrong."

"If me being in the wrong keeps my town safe," Ella spat, "I'll gladly be wrong!"

He turned and looked over his shoulder, tail flicking around.

"You said you hated lies, right?" he questioned, giving a furious smile. "Well, then, here's the truth, Ella. Your town can rot off the face of the world for all I care."

He ignored the shock that flashed across her face and stalked off down the hall, making his way towards the exit. Amelia, however, hastened over to him and caught his arm when he tugged her front door open, small hands shaking.

"W-where are you going?" she asked, biting her lip. "Please, Phil, don't do anything rash."

"I won't, so let go of me," he calmly told her. "I need a breath of fresh air before I lose my temper and do something that _all_ of us will regret."

She was reluctant.

He could tell by the way she was holding onto him.

But in the end, her grip slackened and he walked outside, dragging his hood up.

People stopped and stared at him when he stalked down the street, glaring at the cobblestones with tense shoulders. He tried to calm down, taking deep, cleansing breaths to clear his head, and when he finally managed to blink his rage-blurred eyes back into focus, he let out a sigh.

He'd only been that angry a few times in his life.

It was stressful.

"Phil, wait!"

Gus.

He sighed and refused to turn around when the blonde trotted up, breathing a little heavily.

"You don't really mean that, do you?" he asked in dismay. "I understand why you're angry, but there are more pressing matters to worry about. We need to figure things out before..."

"Before what?" he snapped, making the blonde jump. "Before you people write me off as an enemy and execute me? Or try to send me back to where I came from?"

Octavius said nothing for a long moment.

"It's not that simple, kid."

"Yeah, you think I don't know that?!" he snapped. quivering violently; after a moment, however, he faltered and the fight left him. "Look, man, I don't know you or anyone _else_ in this town. Probably nobody in this world. I mean, I _died,_ Gus... I took my own life. I can remember every single moment of it."

He trailed off, lifting a hand and touching his temple.

He really could remember everything.

The agony from the bullet entering his his brain.

The little sparks of his mind and body dying.

The coldness that had settled over him before he'd fallen into darkness.

"And yet, somehow, I'm still _alive,"_ he bitterly continued, "in a world where the very reason I took my life still exists, but represents everything I hate."

"Are you referring to Ella?" Gus asked. "I don't understand! First you said you loved her, but now you -"

"She's not the girl I thought she was!" Xaphile angrily interrupted, baring his fangs for a moment. "They look alike, but they aren't the same people! It's the same with that girl, Lucy! She looks exactly like another girl I used to know back on Earth! But they aren't the same! They're not the same people that I once knew!"

The moment he said it, however, the reality of the statement winded him.

His shoulders sagged as a tidal wave of sadness sent his fury running for the hills.

They really _weren't_ the same people.

Lucy wasn't Lucinda, Ella was still nowhere to be found, and... and he was still all alone.

All he really wanted was to see her, to hold her, to go back to the way things were.

But... that was impossible.

She was dead, he was dead... they were both dead.

For a single moment, he actually woke up to that reality for the first time, and it triggered a panic attack.

His eyes went blank and he began to shiver, breathing coming quicker as the fear filled his entire being. The walls of the city seemed to close in on him, and all he could do was stand there, locked up in total terror. His tail went limp as he stood there, fur fluffing out.

There were long periods of time when he'd feel as though he was merely half asleep.

But then, the realization that he had killed himself would loom out of nowhere just like it was doing now and his mind would suddenly wake up. During these moments of jarring lucidity, he would get hit with waves upon waves of raw, unadulterated fear that stretched on endlessly. The fear had always been there, nagging at him, never really gone, usually resting deep in the furthest corners of his mind.

But now, like some sort of monster in the night, it grabbed him.

Consumed him from the inside.

He was just beginning to see spots from not breathing right when Gus set a hand on his head.

The man's touch broke through his panic attack, and when he ruffled his hair with an unexpected gentleness, he began to calm down. His breathing slowed and his eyes slowly began to return to normal. Cold sweat broke out all across his body as he stood there, shivering.

"I'll speak with Ella," Gus said in a soft, soothing voice. "If you're really so unhappy that you can do nothing but wish for death, we should be treating you differently. You're correct: we don't know you, and you don't know us, but our actions up to this point have been very wrong."

His rapidly beating heart slowly began to return to a normal pace.

Once the panic attack ended, Xaphile took a deep breath and let it out.

"I don't have... the courage to talk about this anymore," he hoarsely whispered. "I still need time to clear my head, so I'll be taking my leave now."

When he turned and began to walk away, the blonde man watched him go with a solemn demeanor.

Xaphile's shoulders, broad as they were, seemed heavy despite his rigid posture.

Like a great weight was crushing them.

And for someone so young... the sight was a sad one.


	18. Chapter 18: Lucy, Not Lucinda

**Chapter Seventeen: Lucy, Not Lucinda**

For the rest of the day after his fight with the .doppelganger, Xaphile spent his time helping Gus with packing things up. The physical labor gave his mind enough focus to blot out recent events. He didn't really know how to handle the idea of going on an old-fashioned journey via horseback.

Especially not under these bizarre circumstances.

For some reason, irritation was overshadowing his misery, but at the same time exacerbating it.

It was driving him nuts.

Amelia, on the other hand, was frantically running around her home in search of things to pack. Lucy watched from the kitchen table as she darted to and fro, sipping a mug of tea as she frantically gathered a bunch of books and stuffed them into a huge satchel. Ella had gone outside to make preparations with their horses, so it was just the two of them.

"The Countess said not to bring any damageable materials," Lucy tentatively noted. "Why are you packing books?"

"To teach Phil," Amelia huffed, frantically throwing several more things into the satchel, including a huge staff of some sort that literally vanished out of sight; Lucy jumped and blinked at the bag sitting on the table, then jerked back and leaned beneath the wood, peering around with confused eyes. When Amelia noticed her actions, she paused. "Something wrong?"

"Where did that staff go?!" Lucy asked, getting up and hurrying over; upon peering inside the bag, she saw that it was literally right there, but the satchel stretched way deeper than it should have been able to. "Whoa! This isn't a normal bag!"

"Yes, that's right!" Amelia laughed. "It belonged to my father! All of his old traveling packs had magic imbued into them to make traveling lighter and easier!"

"A magic traveling bag?" Lucy gushed, eyes widening in shock when Amelia stuffed thirty more huge books inside the satchel; she gasped when the girl also added a parasol and an entire armful of clothes. "Wow... I've never seen one before, but I _have_ heard of them! If they're all this spacious, they could come in handy! Maybe I should invest!"

"You're welcome to help yourself to one of mine if you want! This house is full of magical oddities thanks to my father," Amelia cheerfully explained, throwing quite a few more odds and ends into the bag. "After my mother disappeared fifteen years ago because of a dream walking spell, he became obsessed with uncovering the secrets of lost magic."

Lucy froze, then slowly lifted her eyes.

"Your mother disappeared?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Amelia's hands slowed for a moment, eyes becoming shadowed.

"Dream walking is more dangerous than you might think," she murmured, heading over to the kitchen and rapidly gathering up all of her herbs from their containers. "I don't know what possessed Ella to consider using it. If something goes wrong, the same thing could happen to one of us, and that's why I'm extremely nervous."

"How could someone simply disappear?" Lucy asked, folding her arms with large brown eyes. "People don't just vanish! She had to have gone somewhere, right?"

"Not really," Amelia noted, grinding up multiple medicines with expert fingers. "Dream walking is one of the twelve unexplored lost magics in this world, and the reason its so hard to find people who use it is because many wizards are _afraid_ to."

"Why?" Lucy asked, furrowing her brows. "Well, I mean, after hearing that I kind of _get_ why, but still! If that sort of magic exists, there has to be record of it somewhere, right?"

"That's quite unlikely," Amelia sighed, "since thousands of scriptures containing the secrets of this world's oldest magics no longer exist due to weathering over time or other natural causes. That's why they're called the Lost Magics, Miss Lucy."

"Miss Von Dolan," Lucy sighed, letting out a disheveled huff, "I-"

"Please, call me Amelia. I'm only two years older than you, so it feels weird."

" _Amelia,_ " the blonde girl corrected, giving her a somewhat dismayed look, "I've come across a lot of wizards who _specialized_ in lost magics during my travels. In fact, at the Grand Magic Games, my whole guild fought against a lot of them. If those magics are truly lost, why is it that some people are still using them?"

"People who use magics like that are willingly putting themselves at risk," Amelia told her, not taking her eyes off of the herbs she was preparing. "Most people who use the Lost Magics were likely taught by their parents. For some, the art is handed down from parent to child, and as such it is only _partially_ learned."

"Was your father one of those Wizards?" Lucy asked, fiddling with one of her pigtails. "You said that he knew how to use dream walking magic, so..."

"Yes, he was," Amelia murmured, hands slowing for a moment. "I remember once, when I was very little, I actually visited the Fairy Tail guild with my Papa. I don't remember what he said, but the guild master got really angry with him and told us to leave."

Lucy straightened up.

"Master Markarov did?" she asked, blinking in total surprise. "Why?"

"Because dream walking is the second most dangerous magic in the world," Amelia sighed. "He was angry at my father for wanting to use it."

"Again..." Lucy muttered, "why was he angry? And _why_ is it dangerous?"

"Oh," Amelia murmured, pausing for a second. "It's dangerous because it involves disconnecting one's soul from the body. The caster's spirit is thrust into the Ethereal Realm. But sometimes, when things go wrong, physical objects end up going there, too. People included."

"Then," Lucy murmured, brow wrinkling in total confusion, "why are we looking for someone who can _use_ magic like that?!"

"Because," Ella abruptly drawled, making both girls jump and whirl to the side; she was leaning against the door frame with her arms folded. " _I_ need to _go_ there."

"Where?" Lucy asked, blinking in confusion.

"The Ethereal realm."

"Eh?! What could you possibly want to do in the ethereal realm?!"

"Memory absorption," Ella explained, giving her a look; then she glanced at Amelia. "I read a few of your father's undamaged notebooks a few years ago. Coming into spiritual contact with the soul of someone deceased is what causes memory absorption."

Amelia's hands fell still and she slowly turned around.

"What are you planning to do?" she asked, looking extremely uneasy. "Ella, tell me. Why are you looking for a necromancer and a dream walker at the same time? And what does any of this have to do with Phil? Why are we making this journey?"

Ella's lips pressed together and she uncomfortably folded her arms.

"I... I want to conjure the soul of Xaphile's lover and intentionally absorb her memories with dream walking. That is why we're making this journey."

Lucy looked extremely confused; Amelia simply looked horrified.

"What?!" she squeaked. "Why?! What would possess you to do something so insane?!"

For a long moment, Ella said absolutely nothing.

She seemed to struggle with something internally when she lifted her eyes.

"Now and then... whenever he speaks to me," she hesitantly muttered, face screwing up as she fought for a way to put her thoughts into words, "or even whenever I see him, I get... strange feelings of nostalgia. As though I _should_ know who he is to me, and yet, for some reason, don't."

"What...?"

"Also," Ella continued, practically babbling now, "even though I don't like him, whenever he starts talking about dying, a fear that doesn't belong to me envelops my heart. It's strange, and I don't like it, since these feelings are not truly mine. I have questions that I want closure on."

"And your first thought was to find a _necromancer_?!" Amelia hissed, sweeping forward and clutching her shoulders. "Are you _crazy_?! Do you know what necromancers _do_ with their magic?!"

"Summon the dead?" Ella asked, scowling at her. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Summon and _destroy_ the dead is more accurate!" Amelia cried, frantically shaking her back and forth. "Spirits who are summoned by a necromancer are DESTROYED by the magic that calls them! It's too dangerous! It's not worth it!"

Ella stiffened, eyebrow twitching in frustration.

"What else can we do?" she snapped, folding her arms and pointedly averting her eyes. "How do you expect us to find one specific soul? Without the aid of a necromancer, I could search the Ethereal plane for the rest of my life and never find her!"

Amelia's eyes went blank and her hands dropped.

"You... knew?" she whispered, covering her mouth with a stricken expression. "You knew what would happen to the soul of Phil's lover, yet you still planned on using a necromancer to summon her...?"

Ella's jaw tightened and she guiltily turned her eyes to the floor.

She didn't want to answer that.

After all, the words he had spoken earlier were still ringing in her ears.

 _'You're just like that cat girl you mentioned... perhaps even worse. In a way, what you've done to me is similar to what she did to you. I don't associate with people who can't see when they're in the wrong.'_

"I can't believe it," Amelia whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Ella, you can't do this! Think of Phil! He's obviously suffering as it is! To destroy the last chance he has at meeting her again someday in the afterlife... you mustn't!"

"If you can think of another way, my ears will be open," Ella murmured, looking at the ground. "I don't think what I'm doing is right, but it's the only option we have right now. I haven't lied to him, but I haven't told him everything, either. So, for now, keep this a secret until we can discern whether or not there's a safer way to accomplish my goals."

"Thank you for being open to suggestions on this," Amelia breathed, looking immensely relieved. "I'm very, very grateful."

"Hang on a second," Lucy interrupted, pressing a hand against her nose and rubbing it for a few seconds; taking a deep breath, she looked at them squarely. "What exactly is the story here? Who is this Xaphile person, and why is he so important to you guys?"

Ella's glare was almost acidic.

"You were right there when he told us he was from another world," Ella retorted, whirling with an angry expression. "He said, quite bluntly, that someone he loved died, so he killed himself and somehow ended up here! It opens up a ton of questions, you idiot!"

Lucy drew back for a moment in offense, but then the reality of those words dawned on her. Those brown eyes blinked for a few moments before her expression saddened a bit.

"Oh," she murmured, planting her chin on her hands. "So that's why you're doing this."

"I'm not taking this trip for his sake, just so we're clear," Ella instantly growled. "I'm doing it for my own sake! Now, hurry up and finish getting ready! We leave at sunset!"

"Eh?" Lucy asked, blinking in surprise. "Aren't we waiting until tomorrow?"

"No. Sunlight is harsh on my body. It's easier for me to travel at night."

"Well, if that's what you've decided, so be it," Amelia sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I'll be done before then, at any rate."

Lucy glanced between the two of them when the packing and last-minute preparations continued. Then she stood up with a barely-concealed frown and headed for the front door. Amelia, who noticed, paused and gave her a surprised glance.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, me?" Lucy chirped, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. "I'm just gonna go see how the boys are doing. I'm feeling a little restless sitting here twiddling my thumbs, so if they need a hand, I've got two to offer."

"Sounds like a decent plan," Ella noted, watching her with firm eyes. "Keep a careful eye on Xaphile, and if you notice anything strange, be sure to tell me. I don't fully trust him."

Lucy nodded and made her way down the hall, taking a moment to check and make sure her keys were still attached to her belt before opening the door and stepping outside. Warm air brushed across her face when she trotted down the cobblestone streets.

Clasping her hands behind her, she looked at all the buildings she passed. People cast curious glances her way, which she returned with friendly smiles and waves. Beneath her cheerful and upbeat expression, however, was a little bit of dismay.

She had taken this job thinking it would be a small and easy one.

A job that would get her enough jewels to pay the rent on her apartment.

She hadn't been expecting to get dragged onto another, much more serious job.

Her first instinct had been to decline.

After all, who would want to hire a skinny blonde girl as a bodyguard?

Sure, she was pretty tough, but most of that strength came with the help of her keys, which had the power to open gateways to the heavens and summon her Celestial Spirits. She had a myriad of contracts with powerful beings, all of which whom she loved dearly.

But her magic, as much as she relied on it, wasn't really bodyguard material.

Plus, her regular traveling partner and best friend, Natsu, wasn't present to help her this time if things went wrong. Everything within her wanted to decline the bodyguard job... but she couldn't. There was only one thing keeping her from doing so.

 _"Goodnight, Lucinda."_

The shock she'd felt when he'd spoken those words that night had shaken her core.

She couldn't get them out of her head.

And the reason for that was simple: nobody aside from her mother and father had known her full first name. She had always gone by Lucy, for as long as she'd been able to remember... it truly had come as a shock.

And she wanted to know why he knew her real first name since she hadn't ever met him before in her life. Although she had yet to see the so-called horns and strange features her employers had been talking about, she _had_ seen his tail.

And she _would_ have remembered meeting a boy with a tail, no matter how long ago.

She was sure of that.

Unfortunately, there hadn't actually been a decent opportunity to bring it up since the guy wasn't very sociable. He'd been holed up in his room nearly every day that she'd been there, and when he _had_ been present, there'd been an odd tenseness in the air.

Bringing up the name issue hadn't felt like a good idea.

"This is a really weird situation," Lucy sighed, patting her cheeks, "but I guess all I can do is make the best of it until I get some answers! And the pay is really good, too! If I really get paid a million jewels, I'll split them with Natsu and Happy once I get back."

Squaring her shoulders, she decided to stick it out for a bit, figuring she could quit later if things got too stressful. When she made it to the other side of town, she arrived just in time to see things being wrapped up. Feeling curious, she slowed down and hid behind the corner of a building, keeping a watchful eye on Xaphile and Gus.

Both guys seemed to have just finished up the last of the packing.

"That's the last of it, thankfully!" Gus panted, wiping his forehead. "Whew! I could use a drink! Come on, boy, let's go relax for a bit!"

"No thanks," Xaphile droned, speaking in a monotone. "I'm fine."

"Aw, come now," Octavius coaxed, carefully throwing his arm around the boy's shoulders and dragging him down the cobblestone path. "Loosen up. Since you're a Fae, I reckon you're old enough for an ale. Heck, you're most likely even older than me."

Lucy blinked when Xaphile was dragged away, inconspicuously following not too far behind as he was forcibly pulled past countless buildings and down three different paths.

"Excuse me?" Xaphile eventually asked. "What did you just say?"

"I said you should loosen up. Why?"

"No, not that. Did you just suggest that I'm older than you?"

Gus was lost by that point. Coming to a halt, he turned around.

"Yes, I did."

"Are you blind?"

"Of course not!" Gus scoffed, looking offended. "Even so, I think I might be a little confused."

"I think you are, too. I'm only seventeen."

Lucy's eyebrows rose.

 _He's the same age as me?_ she wondered, blinking rapidly. _I never would have guessed. I thought he was older._

The man merely stared at him, not processing what he'd said for a long moment, but when it clicked, his jade green eyes went wide and his jaw hit the floor.

"WHAT?!" he cried. "No way!"

"Way," Xaphile snorted, calmly folding his arms. "I turned seventeen a few weeks ago. My birthday was the same day you first found me."

"You're not even a man yet!" he exclaimed, looking totally shocked. "You're even younger than Lady Amelia! I thought you were older! A _lot_ older!"

Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes since she apparently hadn't been the only one.

"Why?"

"Well... your demeanor gives you a very mature air..."

"Nope," Xaphile drawled, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm seventeen, Gus."

"Divines," Gus groaned, rubbing his temples with a sigh. "Well, this is surprising. You can still come with me to the pub, but you're not touching _any_ of the ales or brews, are we clear?"

"I wasn't planning on it," Xaphile growled, eyes sharpening. "I'll never drink alcohol."

Lucy frowned, noticing an odd expression lingering behind his eyes.

Then it was gone.

"Good. Now, if you're ready, we're almost there," Gus stated, pointing at a nearby building. "That's the tavern."

Muffled laughter and drunken song coming from the building made his furry ears twitch.

He staring at the lights flickering in the windows as more laughter ensued, then followed Gus towards the door. When the two of them walked in, Lucy followed as closely as she could while keeping a low profile, finding it rather easy to blend in.

Xaphile, on the other hand, was immediately overwhelmed.

His nose wrinkled when the scent of cooking food mixed with sweat, beer, and smoke assaulted him. The first thing he noticed was that the whole building was crammed full of people: they all seemed to be swaggering around, talking in loud voices, and clapping one another on the back, but the rest were drinking quietly at their own tables.

Some of them looked like punks.

Drunk, glaring, mad-at-the-world, don't-make-me-kick-your-ass punks.

But for the most part, everyone was a sober, bright-looking crowd.

Xaphile glued himself to Gus's side since several people glanced at him the moment he entered. Withdrawing into his hood, he kept his eyes lowered, feeling more than a little tense. Then he looked at the building itself and tilted his head: timber planks that had been roughly plastered against the sides of the walls surrounding him.

The roof was supported by massive wooden beams.

"Go ahead and take a seat next to Mindy, over there," Gus stated, patting his arm and pointing at a seemingly out-of-place woman with dark brown hair that had been tied into a bun. "She has something she wishes to say to you."

"What does she want?" Xaphile asked, giving him a suspicious glance.

"Dunno," Gus explained, giving a shrug. "Food's on me. Since I'm sure you're hungry, feel free to order something. I'll be over in a few minutes, but for now, I'm gonna go talk to Drake."

When he gestured towards the bar, Xaphile followed his gaze and spotted a hulking man with fiery red hair. A gentle giant, it would seem, since the redhead was tenderly cleaning some very small cups.

 _Let's get this over with, then,_ he silently muttered, glancing at the young woman. _God, I'm tired._

As he made his way over, he made sure to keep his tail close since he was afraid someone might step on it. Upon arrival, he tapped the wood and tilted his head.

"Excuse me," he murmured. "Mind if I take a seat?"

The woman turned and stared at him in surprise, but then, her eyes widened.

She instantly turned very pale.

Shivering a little, the young woman reluctantly gestured for him to do so. Sitting across from her, Xaphile merely waited, holding onto his twitching tail to hide just how anxious and disturbed he was feeling. He remembered this woman's face.

The pinched nose... her thin, red lips... the high cheekbones, even her eyes and the thin brows above them. A face that reminded him of a strict librarian. A face that had also been marred with hatred when he'd first arrived.

He shuddered and involuntarily shrunk inwards on himself.

"I don't know where to begin," the woman sniffed. "After what I did to you... after what I said... I can't... think of a proper way to apologize. I feel like what I've done is unforgivable."

He lifted his eyes when she set her forehead against her palm, looking thoroughly unhappy.

"Are you referring to the day I was kicked around like a toy?" he lowly inquired, making her flinch and hide her eyes with her hand. "If so, don't worry about it. I'd rather not be reminded of something so unpleasant. If that's all you wanted to say, I'll be taking my leave now."

When she didn't respond, he nodded and turned to get up, but she snatched his hand.

"Wait," she pleaded, brown eyes desperate. "Don't go until I can figure out how to apologize! I don't feel right on the inside anymore. I feel like a _monster._ Until I do something to fix my mistake, I won't ever feel right again."

His eyes narrowed.

"I can vaguely understand why so many of you hate demons, as you call them," he explained, "but no matter _what_ you thought I was, all of you chose to do something wrong in every form of the word. No creature, good or evil, deserves to be tortured."

Her face twisted and she lowered her head.

"I am sorry," she whispered, clasping her hands and pressing them against her forehead. "I truly am! Please, believe me! The moment it was revealed that we had attacked and beaten an innocent creature instead of a monster... no words. There are no words that can describe the horror and shock I felt. That I still feel. I am sick with myself."

Xaphile blinked as a flash of a memory came back to him.

On the day he'd been released by Ella, a woman had fainted.

Had it been her?

He didn't know, so he let it go after a moment.

"You're forgiven," he sighed, making her twitch. "I'm over it. It's not something you should tear yourself up over. I just want to forget any of that ever happened."

Her face scrunched up and she bit her lip.

"Do you really?" she asked in a small, thin voice. "After what I said... and did... _can_ you really? I... I-I mean, that day... I... I hit you so hard. I still remember the sting of it on my own hand."

He blinked, then his shoulders sagged and he took his hood off.

Her eyes flicked up to look at his horns when he set his chin on his arms.

"Not to bum you out or anything," he sullenly muttered, "but I've been hit so many times in recent months that I can barely remember the pain of you slapping me that day. Plus, in comparison to the man who kicked me in the face, it wasn't even all that painful. Stop worrying yourself. I'm not the kind of person who holds a grudge over a mistake, no matter how big or awful it is. All right?"

Her eyes watered even more, but instead of crying, she pulled a lace handkerchief out of a pocket on her striped, high-collar dress and dabbed at her lashes.

"I'm grateful," she whispered. "Thank you for allowing me to set my heart at ease."

"Glad I could help," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "God, I'm tired. It's been a long day."

"Oi, Mindy!" a man barked, catching the attention of the woman before him. "What are you doing?"

Xaphile tiredly opened his eyes when a vaguely familiar man with curly brown hair swaggered up, swaying slightly: his bearded face was red and he looked drunk.

"I'm apologizing, Asgore," she stiffly informed him. "You should do the same."

The man turned his bloodshot blue eyes on Xaphile.

He sneered when his gaze landed on the horns sticking out of his dark hair.

"Why? That thing ain't human. It got what it deserved."

The woman gasped and turned whiter than a sheet, but before she could say anything, Xaphile slowly got to his feet.

"Thanks for conveying your feelings," he muttered. "Have a nice evening."

When he turned to go, the man unexpectedly gripped his arm.

"Where ya goin', Beastie?" Asgore sneered, drunkenly leaning on his shoulder. "You gonna go attack someone now?"

Xaphile merely turned his head.

"Don't touch me," he said coldly. "Remove your hand and let me pass."

"Shut up! You're too cocky," the man snapped, roughly grabbing his right horn and violently jerking his head down. "On your knees, demon! Know your place!"

Too much.

He lost his temper again.

Twisting his body, Xaphile flexibly hooked his left foot behind Asgore's and jerked, throwing the man so off balance that he let go of the horn. Once he was upright again, he advanced, teal eyes blazing with fury.

Gripping Asgore's right shoulder, he roughly dragged the drunken asshole forward with his right hand and used his left to send a powerful punch into his solar plexus.

The blow winded him.

Xaphile stepped back and watched as the drunkard sank down to the ground, heaving and writhing in agony.

"A-Asgore?!" Mindy cried, leaping to her feet. "What have you done to my husband?!"

Xaphile shook his shirt out and cast a disgruntled glance in her direction.

"I knocked the breath out of his lungs," he said simply. "If I say don't touch me, it _means_ don't touch me. He'll be fine in an hour, so don't worry too much. Have a nice evening."

When he tilted his head in her direction, she gawked with huge eyes.

But she said nothing.

He looked towards the bar.

Gus wasn't paying attention, so he figured now would be a good time as ever to leave. He casually pulled his hood back up and slinked away, shrugging through the crowd towards the door, not even realizing that a pair of shocked brown eyes followed his path.

He was relieved upon making it outside.

Cool evening air brushed across his face, reducing his drowsiness. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way down the cobblestone streets, ignoring the people who were still milling around and simply plodding forward with no thought to where he was going.

The sun was going down, but he hardly cared.

He would be leaving this hellish town soon.

He was grateful for it, truthfully: after everything he'd been through, it would be a nice change to escape from all the nervous stares. His thoughts continued to drift as he walked, but he eventually found himself standing in front of Marty Crawford's tree.

Staring at the blooming plant with blank eyes, he stepped forward and tentatively pressed a hand against the bark, trying to go into the green place again. This time, nothing actually happened... there was no glowing light, no weightlessness.

No relief.

Feeling very world-weary, Xaphile sank down to his knees beside the tree and sighed.

His long hair brushed against the cobblestones as a cold wind touched him from behind.

After a moment, he glanced up, looking straight at the cage he'd been locked in.

The bars gleamed as he stared at them.

"Am I really dead?" he wondered, feeling his head spin with an odd fit of delirium. "Is this... real life?"

He'd heard so many people make fun of that question on the internet over the years, and until recently, he himself had sneered at it. But now, it held a shocking amount of weight. _Was_ this real life? He had, after all, drugged and shot himself.

He didn't know.

"Are you okay?"

It wasn't the question that made him jump.

It was the person who was asking it.

Lifting his hands, he dragged his hood up and abruptly rose to his feet.

"I'm fine," he coldly retorted, turning to walk away, "but I want to be alone right now."

"I'll leave you alone," Lucy said simply, walking around him and peering up into his hood with a skeptical expression, "if you'll do me a favor and answer a few of my questions."

He stared down at her with no reflective sheen in his eyes.

"What do you want to know?" he reluctantly demanded.

Deep down, he already knew what this was about, but he figured he should ask.

Just in case.

"Well, first off," she sighed, tilting her head as she leaned close to his face. "Have we ever met each other before?"

"Depends on what you mean by that," he stoically retorted. " _Have_ we met before?"

"Don't mess with me," she snapped, scowling for a moment. "Just be honest."

"Honest, huh?" he asked, mouth curling a little. "Then, no, we haven't met before."

"Is that so?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Then how did you know my name?"

He sighed, slowly closing his eyes: his shoulders sagged in defeat as the weight of her question came crashing down on him. Turning away from her, he shook his head.

"Same reason I knew Ella's," he muttered. "You look exactly like someone I used to know, and you even have the same name, but you aren't her. The same goes for Ella."

"Wait," Lucy scoffed, eyebrows raising in shock. "Are you talking about... someone from that other world you mentioned? The world where the countess... you know, died?"

"Bingo," he muttered. "There's someone back on Earth with your face, too, Lucinda."

"Don't call me that," she hissed, looking up at him in irritation. "It's Lucy! Just Lucy!"

"Lucinda's your name, isn't it?" he asked, giving her a subtle glance. "Or isn't it?"

"It is, but I don't go by that," she sighed, folding her arms with a huff. "Lucinda isn't a cute name at all! My sex appeal would go down a LOT if people found out!"

Xaphile turned and stared at her with furrowed brows.

Out of everything he'd been expecting her to say, that certainly hadn't been on the list.

"Your sex appeal?" he repeated, giving her a deadpan look. "Seriously?"

"Well, yeah!" she exclaimed, striking a few poses to show off her big breasts and curvaceous figure; his eyes narrowed when she wiggled a little and winked. "I mean, I know that I'm cute, and it works for me. I go by Lucy, and that's that."

He looked away from her, feeling a little disgusted.

"You really aren't the same girl," he muttered, wanting nothing more than to walk away from her then and there. "The Lucinda I knew was proud of her name."

"And why is that?"

"Because her mother was the one who named her," Xaphile snapped. "When people tried calling her anything aside from Lucinda, she would get all bent out of shape. The only people who ever got away with calling her anything else were her friends, and they..."

He trailed off when he turned to glare at her.

Because it was only then that he noticed that she was blankly staring at the ground.

Brown irises devoid of any sheen, she stood there silently.

"You're wrong, but at the same time... you're also right, in a weird way," she told him quietly, voice trembling a little. "Look... I don't know you, and you don't know me. I'm not that girl you just told me about. We may have looked alike, but what you just said about her is the opposite for me."

"The opposite?" Xaphile asked, frowning a little.

"Yeah," she weakly confirmed, lifting her eyes with a shaky smile. "I've gone by Lucy ever since the day she died. Hearing my full name hurts a little, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't call me that. Okay?"

His irritation and disgust deflated into sick guilt when he realized she was on the verge of tears. It was official... this wasn't the Lucinda he knew, because she never would have actually revealed just how upset she was over something like this.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, lifting a hand and tiredly setting it on her head; she stiffened slightly when he gently mussed up her platinum blonde hair,. "I won't call you anything other than Lucy ever again. I didn't mean to upset you..."

She stepped back and stared at him, touching her hair with wary eyes.

"It's totally fine," she explained, forcing a smile. "Now that I've had my questions answered, I'm feeling a little bit better, actually. So, shall we introduce ourselves?"

He stared at her for a moment, tilting his head slightly.

"Sure," he eventually muttered. "I guess."

"Well, great!" she chirped, then gestured at herself and smiled brightly. "I'm Lucy Heartfilia, Fairy Tail's own Celestial Wizard. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Xaphile Heseroph," he rasped. "Likewise."

When he said nothing else, Lucy awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck.

"Well, I'm going to head back to the house to see if the countess needs me," she weakly chuckled, tentatively backing away. "See you later!"

He silently nodded, watching with unblinking eyes as she headed off and out of sight.

It was only once she was gone that the tension left his shoulders.


	19. Chapter 19: Departure

**Chapter Eighteen: Departure**

Octavius came to get Xaphile after what he guessed to be a twenty-minute period of sitting there, but the man looked more than a little grumpy when he showed up. Stalking over, the blonde man nudged him with his foot.

"You should have told me you were leaving," he grunted. "I just trotted all over town looking for you."

"Sorry."

"Bah, it's not an issue. Come with me," Gus instructed. "It's time for us to go."

"Now?" Xaphile asked, feeling a little surprised. "It's getting dark, though... what about sleep?"

"We're all tired after the work we did today, but we won't be resting until tomorrow. We'll be sleeping during the day and traveling at night, so we need to adjust our sleeping schedules accordingly."

Xaphile remained silent, deciding not to say anything else.

When Gus walked away, he climbed back to his feet and kept an even pace with him. The two of them grabbed the things they'd packed before heading towards the drawbridge. To his surprise, the girls were already waiting for them with a few of the guards next to a group of horses.

"Are you ready to go?" Ella demanded, looking at them with a glare. "It's time to move."

"We're packed and ready," Gus confirmed, clapping a heavy hand on Xaphile's shoulder. "Lead the way."

"I also have everything I need," Lucy said simply, patting her thigh where her keys were resting.

"Lower the bridge," Ella called, lifting a hand; a guard standing atop the wooden parapet nodded before pulling on a strange lever. Almost immediately, the drawbridge jolted and slowly began to lower across the huge man-made ditch.

"Are you sure this is the only way?" Angelo demanded, watching the bridge lower. "My lady, this trip of yours seems like it could be potentially dangerous."

"Any danger we face shall meet my blade, and I have a wizard from one of the strongest Guilds in Fiore guarding my back," she shot back, giving him a long look. "I honestly don't know how long this trip will take, Angelo. It could be a long time before I return here. While I'm gone, I would like you to take over my duties as countess instead of that cowardly buffoon Olaf. Make it very clear that I don't want him in charge."

Angelo's grey eyes widened and he immediately bowed in respect.

"As you wish, my lady," he barked, slapping a fist across his breast. "I'll do my very best to ensure the safety of the villagers while you are away!"

"That's exactly why I'm giving you free reign," she firmly explained, then turned to look at the others. "We have a journey to make. Come: mount your horses."

Xaphile looked at the huge animals with a wary expression.

"How do I do that?" he asked uneasily. "I've never ridden a horse before."

Ella scowled deeply.

"Like this," she haughtily answered, untying a black steed from the line; with practiced ease, she gripped the reins and placed her left foot in the stirrup, swinging herself up into the saddle. "See? It's quite simple."

"Simple?" Xaphile scoffed, eyeing the other three horses with suspicion. "I don't think so."

However, since Gus, Lucy, and Amelia were already moving towards the horses, he quickly picked a palomino that looked to be the smallest and most placid of the animals. Ella's horse was the fieriest, snorting and whuffing; Xaphile wanted one that would simply plod.

He untied the animal and grabbed the reins, feeling more than a little nervous.

Amelia, Lucy, and Octavius had already mounted by the time he started attempting it. He managed to get into the saddle on the third try, ignoring Ella's chuckles at his struggling efforts. Breathing heavily, he shakily gripped the reigns and shuddered.

"Absolutely pathetic," Ella snickered, giving him a smirk. "If you were any more faint of heart, I'd be liable to say you're really a _woman_!"

"Get off my case," Xaphile crankily retorted, bristling at her derogatory attitude _;_ after he clutched the reins and sat upright in the saddle, he suddenly felt terrified that the animal would take off without warning. "Hey, uh... these horses don't... buck or anything, do they?"

"These animals have been trained for combat; they will not harm you intentionally," Ella snorted, turning her eyes on Amelia and Gus, who were purposely looking elsewhere. "I imagine we shall have to travel slowly. That way our maidenly little sprite won't fall out of his seat."

"Shut up!" Xaphile snapped. "It's easy for you to be smug since you've been on a horse before!"

"Personally, I've only ridden on a horse a few times myself," Lucy added, sheepishly lifting a finger, "and it was never for long distances."

Ella raised an eyebrow, but she let it go and turned away.

"This way," she rapped out, starting off at a trot. "Follow me."

Xaphile glanced down at the horse in confusion.

"Um... go? Mush?" he suggested, scratching his head; the only word he really knew to use around horses was 'whoa!' and that was to stop them. "Hey, how do I make it move?"

"Use your knees," Lucy called. "Press them once inward, then give a flick of your reins!"

When she demonstrated her instructions, her horse instantly started moving across the bridge after Ella. With a laugh, Amelia flicked her reigns as well and took off. Doing as he'd been told, Xaphile was quite amazed when his horse started to amble along behind them.

Not long after that, Gus in line behind him, and they were off.

After crossing the bridge, Ella turned left and started heading west.

The world surrounding Xaphile was nothing but forest. It wasn't really what he would have expected to find on a parallel universe. He sighed, wishing some of this would start making sense.

"I'm hungry," Lucy sighed, high pitched voice breaking the silence. "With all the activity, I forgot to eat."

"I did as well," Amelia added, shrugging. "I was so busy trying to pack everything that it slipped my mind."

"Yeah, I hear you," Xaphile agreed, looking up at the darkening sky. "I can wait until tomorrow, though."

"Did _any_ of you eat before departing?" Ella grumbled.

"Nope," Xaphile calmly replied, feeling completely unaffected by the spiteful look she threw at him. "I wasn't expecting to be leaving until tomorrow, so I didn't get anything for myself."

"I did not, either," Amelia sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose, "but I can wait."

"Fools," Ella muttered, untying a few pouches dangling at her waist before drawing her horse back and passing them to Lucy; the blonde girl nearly fell off her horse reaching for them, which made Ella raise her eyebrow, but eventually she managed to grasp them. "Most of our food will likely be caught along the journey. Once we run out of provisions, we'll have to rely on the land between settlements."

"Eh?" Lucy asked, blinking rapidly in alarm. "Wait, you mean... live like wild people?!"

She seemed horrified by the prospect.

"Oh," Amelia murmured, eyebrows raising. "So, that's why old Gus is coming along."

"Hey, I'm not old!" the blonde man scoffed, giving her a reproachful look. "I'm still in my prime!"

"You're thirty two years old, Gus."

"Thirty two is a good age!"

"Enough! He's coming because he knows how to hunt," Ella snapped, facing forward. "Once you've eaten your fill, pass the pouches to Amelia, then to the fairy, and then back to me; I don't know how long the provisions we packed will last us, so we should _sparingly_ enjoy the comforts of civilized food."

Xaphile waited until Amelia had eaten six strips of meat and had taken a small draught from the water-skin to help himself; once he'd taken a drink and pulled out the smallest strip of meat, he took a bite of it.

It was tough and tasted like venison, but it actually wasn't all that bad.

In fact, quite the opposite: it made his mouth water and ignited a fierce hunger. He blinked and continued chewing, wondering about the strange cravings he now had. Out of everything he'd eaten since arriving at Chisago, meat was pretty much the only thing that hadn't been on the list.

"Phil, are you... okay?" Amelia suddenly whispered. "Hey..."

"Yeah. I'm fine."

When he looked at her, he realized she'd been staring at him with a very quizzical expression.

Then she stiffened.

"Your eyes!" she hissed. "They look... y-yellow! _"_

"Yellow?" he asked, pulling the meat away from his mouth and staring at her in blank confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Your irises," she quietly told him, pulling her horse back so they were riding side by side; she looked at him with furrowed brows, peering at his face with a very intense expression. "They... they've changed colors. They're bright yellow!"

A strange flash of heat surged through his whole body not long after she said it. Eyelid twitching, he blinked a few more times before slowly putting the meat back into the pouch and handing it to her.

"I... feel strange," he admitted, touching his jaw when a strange ache swept through it; his eyes widened when his teeth began to grind, making a horrible noise that stretched clean into his skull. He clamped a hand against his mouth when a sharp stinging pain unexpectedly jabbed his gums. "Ow."

After the pain faded, he pulled his hand away and saw blood there.

"Eh?!" Amelia squeaked, looking at his hand with large eyes. "W-what?! Did you injure yourself?!"

He couldn't answer: another sharp pain came from his gums, and when he opened his mouth, a few small streams of blood landed on the back of his horse's neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and once again clamped a hand down across his lips as things continued to shift around in his mouth.

When it subsided, he carefully began to prod his gums.

He didn't know what had just happened, or why, but his mouth was hurting terribly now.

"Are you okay?" Amelia whispered, gently setting a hand on his arm. "Your eyes... and, the blood..."

"I'm fine," he croaked, speaking with a definite slur past his hand. "Don't worry... I'm perfectly fine."

"What are you two conversing about?" Ella called from up ahead. "Are you finished eating?!"

"Yes!" Amelia called back, tying the pouch back up. "We'll return the pouch soon, I promise!"

"Well, hurry it up! And stay quiet!" Ella rapped out, making her sigh. "This area is dangerous!"

Xaphile thought of the boar creatures he'd encountered with Gus and shuddered, shaking his head.

It got darker as they plodded along through the woods.

As they rode, however, Xaphile started getting extremely sleepy as the work he'd done took its toll. Head lolling with the motion of the horse, he swayed from side to side... but then, he slid to the right and his shoulder came to a rest against Amelia's.

The brunette, who had been reading a book while they rode, jumped and whirled to look at him.

Her eyes softened behind her glasses when she realized he'd fallen asleep sitting up.

"Poor boy," she murmured, gently taking his reigns and hooking her arm beneath his to prevent him from falling.

Gus watched with careful eyes.

For the rest of the night, Amelia Von Dolan made sure Xaphile didn't fall off the horse.

Resting against her shoulder, he slept peacefully.


	20. Chapter 20: A Little Thing Called

**Chapter Nineteen: A little thing called Science**

The sun was just beginning to rise when an odd concussion struck against the air like a drum.

When the boom filled the air, Xaphile twitched awake.

Tiredly opening his eyes, he blinked like an owl and yawned.

A strange swaying sensation was resting between his stiff legs, and an odd warmth was pressed against his right side. He felt groggy and rather confused, since he really couldn't understand why he'd fallen asleep outside... much less sitting up. His brain still wasn't fully connected yet.

Lids drooping, he almost fell back asleep... but then, there was another concussion, and he twitched a second time. It had been a lot fainter and lacked the jarring impact of the first, but something about it made his hair stand up. However, the sound didn't come again: only the chirping of the birds could be heard.

Xaphile sleepily blinked a second time and looked down at the horse he was riding.

Then he looked around.

Behind him, Gus was struggling to keep his eyes open, and ahead of him, Lucy was writing something down using her backpack and a cutting board as a surface. Ella, ahead of her, was riding as stiffly as ever. But when he glanced around for Amelia, he realized why his right side was so warm. Large blue eyes closed and mouth slightly open, the bespectacled brunette was sleeping against his side.

In her hands were his reigns, and around their interlocked arms was a strange golden glow.

He stared at the odd luminescence for a long moment, feeling genuinely confused.

"Gus," he quietly croaked, making the blonde look up. "What's wrong with my arm? Why are we glowing?"

"Amelia is mildly proficient with Magic," he gruffly told him. "She bound the two of you together so you wouldn't fall off the horses while you slept."

"Eh?" he asked, still feeling extremely groggy. "Magic can do that?"

"Magic can do just about anything," Lucy yawned, finally putting the pen she'd been using behind her ear and tucking her belongings away. "I'm hoping we'll be stopping soon for some real rest, though. I'm tired."

"Oh," Xaphile mumbled. "That's... nice..."

Even as he said it, his eyelids slowly drooped and slid closed: he himself was _still_ extremely tired and he didn't want to wake up just yet. The saddle beneath him almost seemed to have molded to fit the shape of his body... it was comfortable, in a weird sort of way.

He had just begun to doze when another far-off concussion split the air.

"What is that?" he finally grumbled, scratching at his hair. "Seriously..."

Surprisingly, Ella was the one who answered.

"Drums," she stated lowly, turning around and giving them all a dark look. "Whenever you hear that sound, you should be as quiet as you can since it means that there's a large tribe of demons nearby."

"A _demon_ tribe?!" Lucy squawked, jumping and glancing around when the sound came again. "R-really? I didn't even know there _were_ demons this far south! How many are we talking here?!"

"From this forest, all the way to the ocean, demons roam freely," Ella explained. "I don't know if it ever came up, but I'm actually a demon slayer. I have demon slayer magic flowing through my blood."

"WHAT?!" Lucy screeched, making everyone flinch. "YOU'RE A DEMON SLAYER?!"

"Keep it down!" Ella hissed, peering around with wary eyes. "Did you not just hear what I said?"

"I didn't know you were a demon slayer!" Lucy whispered harshly, eyes wide with shock. "I thought you were just Chisago's countess!"

"No. I am also a demon slayer."

"That comes as a surprise... you don't really look like one."

"That's part of why a lot of people underestimate me," Ella snorted, then let out a sigh. "Anyway, back to the matter at hand... we're already out of any immediate danger, since we passed the demon tribe by not too long ago, but we're still too close to where they've migrated to not use caution. We won't stop to sleep until we've put enough distance between us and that ghastly camp to be safe."

Xaphile's long ears twitched and he cocked his head, brows furrowing in total confusion.

"Are demons... intelligent creatures?" he finally asked, making everyone stiffen. "As in, capable of the same level of thought as human beings? Also, why... is there a huge... rift between humans and demons?"

Ella slowly turned around and gave him a serious frown.

"You don't even know that much?" she demanded, making him blink. "You really aren't from around here, are you? How can you not know such a simple thing?"

"Where I come from," he explained, glancing away with a sigh, "things like demons and magic don't exist."

"They don't?" Lucy asked, turning around with a curious expression. "Why?"

"Well, it's like this," Xaphile sighed, shaking his head. "Where I come from, magic is nothing but a parlor trick, and everyone thinks demons are nothing but myth. Until I came here, I thought demons and fairies weren't real just like everyone else. There are legends and stuff, but nobody believes in them... and that's partially why I'm still having trouble adapting to all of... _this_."

When they glanced at him, he gripped his tail and gently tugged on it before tapping one of his horns.

"You sure say some strange things," Ella icily informed him. "A world without demons and magic?"

"Basically."

"Well, if that's truly the case, what exactly _was_ your world like?" Lucy asked, brown eyes twinkling. "Describe your hometown to me, and what kind of a place it was. I can't deny I'm curious."

"Er, Chicago is a metropolis, not a town," Xaphile snorted, furrowing his brows. "It's huge! On my world, the human race is more advanced. Forget small brick buildings, we have towers made of stone, glass, iron... and they stretch so high that people call them sky scrapers. Glittering towers that touch the clouds."

Ella's face twitched when she heard that.

"Impossible," she snorted, closing her eyes with a haughty expression. "No human is capable of such a thing, and I should know, since I'm one of them."

"It's true," Xaphile murmured. "Back on Earth, mankind couldn't fly, so we built a machine that could fly for us. People on my world could literally go all over the world because they built ways to do so. What we lacked in power, we made up for with creativity and intellect. Although there's no reason for us to talk about it."

"Why?"

Xaphile lifted his head and looked at her in confusion.

"You'll be seeing it in Ella's memories," he explained, letting out a despondent sigh. "I already told you... this world that I'm on... I wasn't born here. I'm not from Earthland. And if you're serious about what you said, you'll be able to _see_ the truth soon enough."

Ella acknowledged that statement with silence.

"There are, at present, five main factions of race in our world," she quietly explained, making his ears flick. "Exceeds, Halflings, fairies, Humans, and Demons. Humans and Exceeds have only one subspecies... aside from minor details concerning physical appearances, they're all generally the same."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because ignorance can get you killed," Ella retorted. "Shut up and listen, you stupid fool."

"Hey," Lucy instantly rapped out, frowning a little. "There's no need to be so rude."

The demonic glare Ella threw her way made the blonde girl's sweat drop.

"Among the halflings, there are scores of different subspecies," Gus finally sighed. "Each subspecies has a specific set of features that, while varying from being to being, mark them with their heritage."

"And what, exactly, are halflings?" Xaphile asked with a scowl. "Back on Earth, Halflings are supposedly just really tiny people."

"Really?" Ella scoffed, smirking in amusement. "Well, on Earthland, Halflings are beings that at a first glance _appear_ to be human, but they're not. In a few short words, they're part _beast_."

"Beast?"

"Yes," Lucy chimed, throwing a glance his way. "In fact, one of my guild mates, Erza, has a childhood friend who's a halfling. She's really cute! She has the features of a cat... ears, paws, even her eyes."

Ella stiffened imperceptibly, but she said nothing.

"Fairies, on the other hand," Gus muttered, giving him a slow look, "are the rarest of all beings on Earthland. They're so rare, in fact, that some people believe them to be completely extinct. I'm still not fully sure that you're even one of them, since Primordial Sprites are fairies of the forest."

"Well, what about demons?" he questioned. "Why does everyone keep saying that they're monsters?"

"Because they _are_ monsters," Ella hissed, fists tightening on her reigns.

"Demons are responsible for the worst atrocities in our world," Gus darkly explained. "Monsters who prey on all the other races in the night and feed off of our deepest fears."

"They're evil," Ella snapped, whipping around and glaring at him. "They're all evil, and never forget it! There are thousands upon thousands of different demons in this world, but none of them are capable of feeling! Of discerning between right and wrong!"

"Many of them kill humans for food," Gus added. "For example, those boar demons you saved me from when we first met would have likely killed and eaten both of us if Ella hadn't stepped in."

When Xaphile blanched, even Lucy shivered a little.

"Yeah," she muttered, fiddling with one of her pigtails, "even Fairy Tail has had a few run-ins with demons in the past, and trust me, they're pretty terrifying. In fact, a group of them nearly managed to wipe us out."

Ella stiffened.

"Surely you jest!" she growled. "Fairy Tail is the strongest Wizard's Guild in Fiore!"

"The demons we fought were stronger than us," Lucy explained, shaking her head; then her eyes shifted and became somewhat downcast. "In order to beat them, I had to abandon one of my oldest and dearest friends."

An uncomfortable pause filled the air, and for a long time, nothing was said.

They rode in total silence.

After a while, though, Ella glanced off to the east and saw that it was beginning to brighten.

"Enough of this dark talk," she sighed, scratching her chin. "Explain more of your world to me when we get out of here. Doubts aside, I admit... I am very intrigued by it."

"I'll say," Amelia sleepily mumbled, making Xaphile jump and glance at her; her eyes were still closed, but she was smirking. "Some of what I heard sounds incredible... I'd have loved to have seen it. Towers that touch the sky... and men who could fly anywhere? It sounds... amazing."

Xaphile frowned and looked away from her.

"It was."

"So, where are we heading?" Amelia called, finally sitting up and opening her eyes with a yawn. "I slept half the night, so I'm actually quite full of energy again."

"Well, considering Gus, Miss Heartfillia, and I have all had no sleep," Ella murmured, glancing at the position of the rising sun, "I'd say we'll be traveling a few more kilometers before setting up camp for the day. If, that is, none of you have any qualms about traveling at night."

Nobody spoke up when she pointedly glanced back at them.

"We understand," Lucy told her, "but please, don't call me Miss Heartfillia. Just Lucy. Okay?"

"As you wish... Lucy."

"Well, now that we're done with that... Phil, are you ready?" Amelia asked, digging around in her bag with a focused expression. "I'd like to begin teaching you a bit about yourself."

His lips pressed into a flat line.

"If you say so," he eventually muttered, watching as she pulled the red book out. "You left off at the part about me being a Primordial Sprite... I think."

"Yep!" Amelia drawled, flipping the book open. "I was reading through some of the books I brought with me last night, and I need to make something clear. What I'm about to teach you is, by its very nature, incomplete."

"Incomplete?"

"Yes," Amelia confirmed. "Primordial Sprites have always been extremely mysterious, and because of that, the few tomes I have that describes them only explain a few basic things."

"Whatever you can tell me is fine, I guess," Xaphile nonchalantly noted. "As long it prevents this so-called magic of mine from spiraling out of whack, I'm good."

"Like I said, before I can truly help you with that," she firmly told him, "you need a basic education on the subject of your race, as well as magic itself. It's hopelessly confusing to start in the middle of such complex topics without understanding the foundation on which they stand."

"Then, where are we beginning?" he questioned. "Where we left off?"

"No," she giggled, "we're starting with the very basic beginning: the life cycle of Primordial Sprites. If that doesn't wear you out, we'll continue to another topic."

"By all means, then."

With a grin, Amelia proceeded to explain how sprites pursued each other and... mated.

Much to his chagrin, the topic made his face burn bright red.

Halfway through her explanation on how they courted each other, however, he broke in.

"Dude, I'm not an animal!" he squalled, making her blink and look up from the book. "Screw all that stuff about dominance and submission! I will never, and I do mean _never_ , act like that towards a woman! Period! That's _not_ how my mind works!"

"Well, that may be so," Amelia noted, looking at his quivering ears and red cheeks with amusement, "but that's how others of your race do things. Domination apparently plays a big part in Fae society."

"That's totally barbaric!" Ella instantly called, making him hunch his shoulders. "Fighting for dominance? Forcing a chosen lover into submission? Your race sounds more like dogs in _heat_ than the enchanting creatures my father always told me the Fairy Folk were."

"Being a little barbaric in bed is a good thing," Gus pointed out, loftily waggling his eyebrows when the girls glared at him reproachfully. "You kids haven't gotten old enough to experience that sort of thing, so you wouldn't know, but it's the truth."

"I doubt that," Ella sniffed, turning her nose up.

"Can we talk about something else?" Lucy tentatively chuckled, waving her hands. "Please? I mean, it's a little awkward..."

"Awkward or not, it's the truth," Gus sniggered, smirking in her direction. "Personally speaking, I've come to discover that the wilder your partner is, the more pleasurable the experience becomes. And since Primordial Sprites sound like they'd be _very_ wild bedfellows... well, you know. Sounds like a good time."

"GUS!" Amelia squealed, covering her ears and turning bright red. "YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF A LADY OR THREE!"

"I beg your pardon?!" Ella snapped, instantly whirling around. "Did you just say _or_ three?"

"I can't hear you!" Amelia called, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. "Wait until Gus is finished being a lech to scold me, please!"

When the blonde man let out a booming belly laugh, Lucy face-palmed and Xaphile's furry ears drew back.

"How did I get roped into this?" she grumbled, taking a deep breath.

"Eh, well, whatever," Gus sighed, wiping his eyes with a mischievous grin. "I found the part about sealing them to you with a kiss to be particularly interesting. That kind of magic seems like it would be potentially incredible. Being tied together like that makes a normal marriage seem pale in comparison."

"I agree, but since it seems to be making everyone uncomfortable," Amelia grumbled, shaking her head with an embarrassed flush, "let's move onto what they eat, instead."

The girl then continued her lecture: she explained what and when sprites usually ate.

However, halfway through explaining that they were herbivores... she froze.

For a long time, she was quiet.

So quiet, in fact, that Lucy spoke up.

"Everything all right?" she called. "Why'd you stop? It was getting interesting."

"Phil," she murmured, setting the book down and hastily turning in the saddle. "Look at me."

Xaphile twitched when she grabbed his head without warning and turned it to face her, blinking rapidly as she gently used both thumbs to pull his lips back.

Then she peered at his teeth.

"Wha' are y' doin'?" he sloppily demanded, glaring when she touched the tip of his tooth. "Shtop! Get y'r fingersh out of m' moush, for Pete shake!"

After a few more seconds, her face relaxed and she let go.

"You must never eat meat unless it's an emergency," she firmly told him. "Am I clear?"

"Why?" he asked, scowling in confusion. "Hardly seems like something to do in an emergency..."

Then he remembered what had happened the previous evening and clamped a hand to his mouth.

"Your teeth grew last night, didn't they?" she asked, picking the book back up. "Primordial Sprites can apparently induce a savage and very ancient form of magic called the Blood Rage through eating meat."

"Seriously?" he whispered.

"Yes," she confirmed, "but doing so is extremely dangerous, since it runs the risk of you temporarily losing all of your conscious will. And _some_ physical changes to your body could even become _permanent_ if you're not careful."

Xaphile's eyes widened.

"Yeah, okay, that's a little unnerving," he whispered, dragging his hood up. "Let's move on, shall we?"

And so, it went.

Two more hours passed unheeded as they talked.

Eventually, Ella brought their conversation to a halt by stopping her horse in the middle of a small glade.

Xaphile clumsily reigned in his own horse, and the others did the same.

"This will do," she sighed, shaking her head. "Let's set up camp for now. I am very, very tired."

Xaphile watched how she carefully dismounted and tied her exhausted horse to a fallen log.

When the others did the same, he hesitantly tried to get out of the saddle, but slipped and landed on the ground hard. His legs, shockingly, actually buckled. With a startled yelp, he planted face-first into the ground and spit out a clump of dirt once he could sit up.

Confused and irritable, he looked at his legs and shakily stood back up, ignoring the dirty look Ella was giving him. After that, they hastily set up camp and Gus got a fire going. While he tended to the flames, Amelia smoothed out the dress she was wearing.

"My gown has a lot of creases in it now because of how far I had to push my skirts up," she sighed, fiddling with one of her glossy brown braids. "Really, dresses are ill-suited for traveling."

"I hope you brought something other than gowns," Lucy murmured, unpacking her things. "It'll be very hard on you if that's all you thought to bring."

"Oh, I brought some travel friendly clothes, don't worry," she exclaimed, waving her hands. "It's just, I had no time to change yesterday, that's all. Speaking of which, how, are we going to bathe?"

"There's a river nearby, thankfully," Gus told them, making the girls glance up. "I've been through this area before. This time of year, the water should feel very pleasant, so you can use that if you're really craving a wash. I'm probably going to bathe in it myself before I sleep for the day."

"Same!" Lucy sighed, stretching and busying herself with digging around in her pack. "All I can smell is horse, so I feel kind of gross."

Ella looked at Xaphile out of the corner of her eye, watching as he took his hooded shirt off. His lean, corded muscles rippled when he folded it up and shook his long hair out. She involuntarily winced when she saw the horrible scars and thin scabs stretching all across his back, but then his hair slid back and covered them.

"I think I'll simply eat and go to sleep," she muttered. "I'm not feeling grubby enough for a wash."

She was just about to sit down and make herself comfortable when a glittering, rainbow-winged butterfly fluttered past her nose. She blinked several times before she tore her hood off and stared at it in shock.

 _A rainbow butterfly...?_ she silently whispered, blankly watching the glittering creature. _What could this mean?! Has a higher deity sent one to bless our journey?_

She didn't know, but Rainbow Butterflies were rumored to bless those they landed on. Fortune always smiled upon people who were touched by the glitter on their wings. She watched in disbelief, not liking what she was seeing... not liking the path it was taking... but sure enough, when Xaphile turned, it fluttered close to him.

When it landed on the golden locket around his neck, he glanced down in confusion.

Waves of sparkles rained down on the necklace, bathing it and his collarbone in glitter.

For several moments, the little butterfly sat there and flapped its wings, raining glitter on his chest, but then it fluttered above him and coated his body in sparkles. When it flew away, he lifted his clawed hand to try and touch it, but by then it was out of reach.

Then, as if the gods were purposely trying to send Ella a message of some sort, the clouds parted for a moment and Xaphile was bathed in sunlight. A gentle wind swept through the grass as he stood stock still, holding his arm out to the sky. His pale skin looked so bright that he almost seemed to be glowing.

His body was sparkling all over because of the butterfly's magic.

When he finally lowered his arm, however, his eyes had gone dead.

Hands hanging limply, he slowly turned his head and looked straight at her, long black hair drifting behind him in the breeze. For a long moment, something in his face seemed fragile and cold... but then, clouds drifted over the sun again and the fleeting expression of emotional fragility vanished.

The spell that had fallen over her broke and she looked away.

"Phil," Amelia murmured, looking at him out of the corner of her eye once he sat down. "That butterfly is a good omen! A _very_ good omen! They bring fortune to whoever is touched by those glittering lights you just saw! Did you know that?"

"No," he said blankly, staring at the ground, "but good news is better than bad news, I guess."

Amelia winced since the air almost vibrated with the heaviness of his tone. His actions, mannerisms, and even his speech caught all of them off guard from time to time. There were moments when he really did seem like he was from a completely different place, moments when his expressions became _otherworldly_ , in a way.

"How are you holding up, boy?" Gus inquired, gesturing to his legs. "You sore?"

"Yeah, actually," he reluctantly admitted. "It put a lot of stress on my legs."

"Then we'll rest up for a while to make up for it," Gus sighed, pulling out several food ingredients. "For now, time for dinner."

"At least it's cloudy today," Ella murmured, glancing up at the sky. "I won't burn as badly."

"Covering yourself up with dark clothing will help to deflect the UV rays," Xaphile absently noted, shuffling around in his own bag. "So will shade, and directly avoiding sunlight."

Ella paused, blinking in confusion; then she looked at him with a suspicious frown.

"U... V... rays?" she demanded. "What are... those?"

"Eh?" Xaphile asked, eyes going blank before he remembered where he was. "Er... well, UV stands for Ultraviolet Radiation."

When four sets of eyes stared blankly, looking even _more_ confused, he wondered just how scientifically underdeveloped Earthland truly was.

"I don't understand," Amelia explained, slowly shaking her head. "Ultraviolet... radiation?"

"Okay, look," Xaphile sighed, grimly realizing he might have to explain it from a very basic beginning. "You guys might not know this, but the sun emits a form of energy called ultraviolet radiation. We don't just get light from it. The sun is made up of a lot of things, and because of that, it emits a lot of things, too."

Lucy's brows furrowed and Amelia gasped, looking shocked.

"You know what the sun is made of?" the latter whispered. "Phil! Tell me! What is the sun made of?!"

Slowly continuing what she was doing, Amelia tried to focus, but she didn't take her eyes off him.

"Well, in a nutshell, it's a big ball of fire, fueled by gases," he explained, frowning as he thought about it. "The sun is actually a star, just like the ones you see at night: they're all the same. It just looks as big and bright as it does because it's closer than the other stars."

"What?" Gus scoffed, not believing his ears. "That doesn't make sense! Not at all! If it's a star, and it's brighter because it's closer... then why, exactly, does it light our whole world? And why does it disappear?"

"Because the world spins," Xaphile explained, lifting a clawed hand. "If Earthland is anything like Earth, this world spins on an axis. Back where I was born, the reason we got different seasons was because Earth orbited our sun."

They all looked baffled.

"How?" Ella demanded, looking mind boggled and extremely disgruntled simultaneously. "Explain!"

"Well, gravity," Xaphile sighed, picking up a stone and tossing it into the air; they all watched as it flew up, then came back down. "All things, no matter what they are, have something called mass: that stone, those horses, our food, and even us. Things with a _lot_ of mass tend to be heavier."

"Ehhh?!" Lucy gasped, eyes widening in shock. "I think I know what you mean! It's like, when you lift a book and a traveling pack, right? The book is lighter than the pack! So, you're saying it's because of mass?!"

"Yeah, basically," he explained, shrugging. "Things with more mass are heavier because gravity affects them more. The bigger and more solid the object, the heavier it gets."

"What does any of this have to do with our world spinning and going around the sun?!" Ella snapped, folding her arms with an impatient expression. "Tell me!"

"Everything," Xaphile snorted, glaring at her. "Like I said, everything has mass, and that includes the world beneath our feet. There are things so big and so full of mass that they can draw other things _to_ them. Earthland is literally just a very, very big hunk of rock that's holding down everything you see with its own gravitational pull."

"And the part about the sun? Go on! Tell us!"

"The sun has enough gravity to keep this world locked into a specific circular path. The planet spins in two ways: one, it goes around the sun in a yearly orbit, and two, it spins as it does so, giving us the impression of day and night."

"That doesn't necessarily explain why the sun is bigger than the other stars," Lucy told him. "I'm finding it hard to believe."

"Just because it seems bigger doesn't mean it is," Xaphile snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's definitely _closer_ than those other stars, but the sun is around the same size as the rest of them."

Amelia's eyes sparkled with shock at the news.

"Really?! Phil, that's amazing! How do you know all this?!"

"I was taught it," he said simply, looking at the ground. "Where I come from, civilization is actually way more advanced than it is here."

"That's incredible!" Amelia exclaimed, looking up at the sky. "So, how far away _are_ all the stars?"

"There's no way of knowing that, but I _can_ honestly tell you," Xaphile snorted, closing his eyes, "that they're so far away, even the people on Earth could only guess. You could probably stack this entire world a million times over and you wouldn't even be a third of the way to your sun."

"Eh?!" Amelia squealed, eyes extremely wide. "Really?!"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "The darkness you see between the stars in the sky is called _space_ , Amelia... it's an emptiness that stretches on so far that you could only think of it as eternity."

The girl looked as if she were about to explode with delight.

"Would you tell me more?" she asked, looking at him like a child asking for a story. "Please?"

"Uh, sure... if you want me to," Xaphile mumbled, feeling kind of disgruntled. "There's a lot I could tell you, but honestly, I don't exactly think you'd find it interesting."

"Oh, but I do!" Amelia exclaimed. "I've never heard anything equal to it! It's incredible, Phil! To think, you know what the _sun_ is _made_ of! I never knew it was like a big lantern! What kind of oil do you think it runs on?"

The question was so absurd, yet so ridiculously genuine, that it actually caused the impossible. Before he could stop it from happening, a strangely light feeling abruptly bubbled up his throat. His face twitched a few times, lips shakily tilting upward. Then, a very small fit of laughter escaped from his mouth.

Everyone halted and stared at him in shock, but none looked more startled than Ella.

Eyes wide, she blinked at the boyish and goofy smile on his face, only made goofier thanks to the sight of his sharp fangs glinting in the sunlight. For a moment, he actually looked like a normal teenager.

When he finally stopped laughing, his eyes were much mellower than usual.

"Okay, okay, wrong," he sighed, shaking his head with a very rare smirk. "It's not _oil,_ Amelia, it's _gas_ _._ A good example of a common gas would be... well, air. You know, what we breathe?"

"Air?" Amelia whispered, looking quite dizzy with shock. "You know what _air_ is made of, too?"

"Yep. A substance called oxygen, which is a gas," he confirmed, nodding once. "There are many different types of gases, and since the sun is made up of some really _hot_ gases, it burns. That's why we can see it, and at a stretch, even why any of us are alive right now. The sun keeps the world warm and gives us light."

"Is that so?" Ella murmured, tilting her head before she tossed the vegetables Gus had pulled out onto a frying pan. "How _interesting_."

Xaphile's eyes returned to their lackluster visage when he detected the sarcasm in her tone.

"If you don't believe me, that's your problem," he noted with a cold expression on his face, "but belief alone doesn't affect reality. What I've said is the absolute truth."

When she sneered, he stood up and irritably stalked off.

"Don't go too far away!" Amelia called, worriedly giving him a glance. "We'll be eating soon!"

"Fine," he called, letting out a sigh. "I won't."

"And can you tell me more later?" she added. "Please?"

He paused, then gave a wave, not really sure how to answer that.

He didn't really want to talk about science anymore.

He didn't even want to _think_ about it.

Not just because of how anxious the reality that he was stuck had made him, but because he was finding it harder and harder to comprehend anything that was going on. As a boy who had been raised with a present-day Earth mindset, he couldn't exactly wrap his head around the concept of being on another world, or whatever the hell Earthland truly was.

He'd read books on mythology, had been writing a story of his own on Irish mythology, and he'd seen movies filled to the brim with supernatural people and creatures... but he'd never once believed any of them could have been real. Much less that he himself would have ever turned into one.

He only turned back when the smell of cooking food met his nose.

Upon arrival, Amelia handed him a glowing china plate, which he took without asking questions. A glowing dish was literally the least bizarre of all the things he'd seen so far.

During the meal, though, Gus looked up and regarded him curiously.

"Hey, Phil," he gruffly called. "Once we finish our meal, will you come with me for a swim in the river?"

It was so abrupt that it actually came as a surprise.

Xaphile stared at him, considering the offer with an inscrutable expression.

It didn't sound like a bad idea, and since he was kind of craving a shower, he figured he might as well.

"Sure," he eventually murmured. "A cold wash sounds good to me."

"Great," Gus chuckled. "Let's finish eating first, though."

Xaphile responded by going back to his food.

Once he'd finished, he got up and started trotting through the trees toward the sound of fresh, cool water without waiting. It took him only a few minutes to get to the river, but once he was there, he looked around and purposely made sure there was nobody else around.

Feeling oddly uncomfortable, he began to undress, carefully undoing the front of his trousers and shrugging them off before slipping out of his underwear. He folded both articles of clothing and set them on the river bank, then turned towards the water.

For a long moment after he was nude, he looked down at himself.

At the features that now made him something other than human.

A strong breeze swept through the clearing when he lifted his hands, gazing at the sharp-looking black claws stretching out of them. Slowly closing his palms, he frowned in dismay, then dropped his arms and walked into the river, letting it flow up to his waist before he dunked beneath the surface. The cold water slid over his bare skin and washed out his long hair, refreshing him completely and making him feel alive.

After a few moments of swimming underwater, he broke free of the surface and took a deep breath.

Wet tail flicking around, he paddled contentedly for a while, then floated on his back and let the current carry him. Every now and then, he swam back upstream and repeated the process, not even noticing when Octavius came lumbering through the trees and started undressing.

Rolling his shoulders, the man tentatively stepped into the river.

"Ah," Gus drawled, sinking down and closing his eyes. "I was right... the water is perfect."

"It's a nice temperature," Xaphile agreed, lazily drifting along with the current. "It's a little cool, but not enough to be uncomfortable."

After that, the two of them just relaxed for a while, neither one speaking.

"How's your back?" Gus eventually inquired, making Xaphile glance at him. "I saw it earlier... your flesh still hasn't fully healed up, and you're constantly rubbing your neck and sides."

"I'm better. I'm still aching a bit from being kicked around, but my back doesn't even hurt anymore as long as I'm careful."

"Well, you may still have to take it easy for a while," Gus gently noted. "You didn't have any broken bones from what I could tell, but fractures are another story."

Xaphile stood up and stretched when he heard that, letting out a yawn.

He _was_ sore, but still...

However, when he noticed Gus staring at his lower torso with raised eyebrows, he abruptly lowered a hand to cover his groin.

"Damn, kid," the blonde muttered, giving him a disbelieving expression. "You may be young, but physically, you're already more of a man than most of the blokes in Chisago! Even me! Are you part horse or somethin'?!"

Xaphile's eyebrow twitched and his face flamed bright red with an embarrassed flush.

Abruptly wading over, he violently punched the blonde on top of the head.

"OW! The hell was that for?!"

"Never comment on my physique again," Xaphile growled, stalking over to the shoreline and sitting down to air dry himself; his hair was just long enough to hide his privates, so that's exactly what he used it for. "Pervert."

"It was only a question!" Gus barked, rubbing his head. "Damn... didn't need to hit so hard."

Xaphile sat staring off into space for several minutes while he waited for his body to dry off.

"I feel a little better," he eventually muttered, standing up and stretching his muscles; after braiding back his hair to keep it from sticking to his body, he shrugged his clothes on again. "I'm going for a small walk... I'll return to the camp in a little while, promise."

"Don't wander too far!" Gus called, watching as he slid through the trees. "Be careful!"

"I will!" he snapped. "Geez."

He looked up at the sky as he padded away from the river, running a hand through his hair. Sunlight streamed through the leaves as he walked, listening to the sound of his footsteps on the damp forest path. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to relax.

It was hard, though.

Shaking his head, he wrung most of the water out of his braid.

Xaphile then turned and gazed back at the barely-visible river before heading off. After about ten minutes of aimless walking, he got bored and turned to head back to the camp... but on his way there, he froze in his tracks and his eyes inexplicably went blank.

A shiver ran down his spine, making the mane of fur beneath his hooded shirt stand on end.

For a moment, he genuinely felt like someone was watching him.

Someone who definitely wasn't giving off a friendly vibe.

Slowly turning around, he looked behind him with a confused expression.

"Hello?" he carefully inquired, scanning the trees with furrowed brows. "Is someone there?"

No response other than the sound of wind in the leaves.

For a long moment, he listened to the sounds around him... furry ears twitching involuntarily at every single sound. After a moment, he merely shook his head and turned to go, figuring it was probably him just overreacting. If he considered his circumstances, it wouldn't be surprising.

But that's when it happened.

He stiffened when he heard running footsteps, but before he could so much as whirl around with a roundhouse, a strong hand gripped his hair and jerked him backwards. Xaphile's heart palpitated when his head was yanked back and the sensation of cold metal was pressed against his throat.

"Don't make a sound, otherwise I'll slit you open," a male voice hissed, making him blink. "Now... walk."

Wordlessly, he did as he was told... but one thing was certain.

He was in some very serious trouble.


	21. Chapter 21: The Selfish and the Selfless

**Chapter Twenty: The Selfish and the Selfless**

Xaphile tried to keep his footing when his assailant violently dragged him backwards towards a darker part of the forest. However, in spite of the obvious danger he was now in, his eyes were vacant of all expression aside from mild irritation.

The whole time, he kept his jaw locked and refused to make a sound.

After a few minutes of walking, the one holding him finally let go and whirled him around, slamming him backwards against a tree. Before he could attempt retaliate, the blade was once again being held against his throat. He blinked when he found himself staring into the face of a very grubby, greasy-looking man with weathered skin and flaming red hair. Xaphile met his assailant's gaze evenly, pupils contracted into angry slits.

The redhead pressed the blade against his neck a little harder.

"Disgusting demon," he sneered, bearded mouth curling in disgust. "Keep glaring and I'll slit your throat instead of selling you off."

Xaphile defiantly continued to stare at him with cold, unblinking eyes.

"Care to explain?" he lowly demanded, not moving a muscle. "Why are you holding a knife to my throat?"

The redhead looked surprised by his words, but after a moment he glared.

"Some demons make good coin," he sneered, touching Xaphile's fur-covered ears before brushing his fingers against one of the horns sticking out of his head. "You speak our language, and you even seem to have quite a few resources on your body that people would pay a mighty sum for. You might make a good sex slave, if nothing else."

Xaphile quirked an eyebrow.

"Remove your hands from me," he quietly retorted. "You can't just waltz up to random people, attack them, and decide that you want to sell them into prostitution. I'm not an object."

"Shut up before I decide to slit your throat!" the redhead spat. "Don't make me say it again!"

So saying, he gripped Xaphile's dark hair again and smashed his head back against the tree, exposing his neck.

This freak was serious.

He could tell by the cunning look in his lime green eyes.

But at this point, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Slowly leaning forward and pressing his pale throat against the blade, he looked the man clean in the eye, feeling his exhaustion coming to the surface.

"If killing me will help you sleep at night, go ahead," he murmured, not looking away from the man's eyes; he felt next to nothing when they jolted open wide. "Slit my throat if that's what you want to do. Go on. Do it."

"SHUT UP!" he snarled. "DO YOU EVEN REALIZE THE SITUATION YOU'RE IN?!"

Xaphile merely looked at him.

Waiting.

"I _completely_ understand," he quietly retorted, giving him an icy stare. "Just make your choice already. I'm not letting you sell me like a store-bought kitchen appliance, so either kill me and get it over with or let me go. Your choice."

The redhead's left eye twitched and a vein bulged in his forehead.

When his fist tightened, Xaphile mentally braced himself... but then, almost abruptly, the man jumped.

"If you value your life," Ella's voice suddenly growled, "you'll drop the blade and take your grimy hands off of him."

Slowly, the man released his hair and carefully held the dagger out to the side before letting it drop. And with a speed that Xaphile could barely process, the hooded albino girl whirled around his body and sent a fierce kick straight into his nether regions. The grubby slaver folded like a ragdoll, clutching himself and screaming in agony.

"OW!" he squawked, face turning dark purple. "FUCK! FUCK!"

"Filth," Ella spat, folding her arms with a dangerous expression. "Get out of my sight."

"Little Bitch!" he wailed, rolling around on the ground. "You... whore!"

"Shut up!" she snapped, furiously cocking her hip. "I'll say it only once more: get out of my sight, filth! If you ever come near one of my companions again, I'll _castrate_ you!"

Xaphile winced at the threat, since he was pretty sure she was actually crazy enough to do it.

When the man didn't move, she kicked him one more time. Clutching his groin, he hastily crawled towards the treeline, then pulled himself up and hobbled away. Ella waited until long after he was gone to lower her guard. Closing her eyes with an irritated sigh, she cautiously relaxed, breathing heavily.

"Are you all right?" she finally demanded, giving Xaphile a sour look. "That man... who was he? What did he want, and why was he holding a blade to your throat? Did you do something to him?"

"He wanted to sell me as a sex slave," he muttered, not looking at her. "He attacked me out of nowhere."

She stiffened, looking at the ground with a concerned expression.

"Slavers? This far south?" she murmured, hastily sheathing her dagger. "This doesn't bode well. Once we eat, we're departing again."

"Eh?" Xaphile asked, looking at her in dismay. "We just finished setting up camp, though."

"If that man was a slaver," she snapped, losing her patience, "he'll likely come back and bring more of his companions with him! I'm much too tired to fight them off properly, let alone defend four other hapless people. We leave after we eat."

"All right," he sighed, shaking his head. "Fine."

When they turned to go, however, she froze like a statue.

Then she clasped her daggers and drew them in a flash.

Xaphile followed her gaze and stiffened when he saw a large group of burly men moving through the trees. There were about thirty of them, total: two men were up on horseback, but the majority were on foot, and all of them had weapons, He swallowed when he noticed that they were all scarred, enormous in size, and wearing dark cloaks.

When they stopped a decent distance away, the grubby redhead stumbled up, still clutching himself.

"That's them," he snarled, lifting a scraggly finger and pointing straight at them. "Those are the ones that attacked me!"

"Leave us!" Ella calmly and loudly commanded. "I am only going to say this once! You will find nothing of value here."

"Filthy bitch," the redhead snarled, spitting on the ground near her feet. "She keeps company with demons!"

Ella sighed and took her own hood off, revealing her white hair and extremely fair features.

Then she took control of the situation, lifting her pink eyes with a savage glare.

"I am the Countess Ellameira Rochard of the Southern provinces," she called in a warning tone. "To get my companion, you will have to come through me, and you definitely don't possess that kind of skill."

Some of the men stiffened and fear alighted on their faces at the sight of her face.

"It's the white witch!" one of them whispered. "The ruler everyone calls the demon slayer!"

"Bah! Demon Slayer or not, even you can't take all of us at once, little girl," a burly man with shaggy brown hair snapped, lumbering forward with a threatening visage. "Don't underestimate us!"

"We have no quarrel with you," Ella retorted, quirking a thin white brow. "Leave us be and no more need be said."

"You'll only get past us over our dead bodies," the man growled back. "We won't obey you."

"It's your choice," Ella chuckled, instantly flicking her daggers into a ready position.

"Wait," Xaphile growled, snatching her wrist. "Don't."

Glaring at the clawed fingers gripping her limb, she glanced up at his face and saw that it was dark with a strange expression. His eyes were flicking around as if he were trying to spot something beyond the group of men.

"Let go of my arm," Ella commanded. "Now."

"No," Xaphile retorted, tightening his grip without looking at her. "I've got a very bad feeling in the pit of my belly right now. Instead of going right to them, you and I are going to to draw them away from here."

She stiffened, then clenched her fists.

"Don't think to order me around!" she hissed. "I won't run from a fight, even if _you_ would! Now, remove your hand from my arm before I decide to chop it off!"

"No," Xaphile retorted, teal eyes hardening into frozen gems. "Something isn't right. If you charge in there, I won't be able to do much to help you!"

"I don't care!" Ella snapped, dragging her wrist out of his grasp. "Now, stay here. It'll be over soon."

So saying, she walked forward and hefted her daggers, making Xaphile tense.

 _Something really isn't right,_ he silently muttered, frantically looking around. _There's something wrong here._

"You want a fight?" Ella called, dancing from foot to foot. "You got one! Let's go!"

The sound of swords drawing all over the place met Xaphile's ears.

"Attack!" the shaggy man roared, gesturing wildly with his sword. "Come on, men!"

When all of them charged, Ella merely stood where she was, pink eyes flicking around... but then, in a flurry of black and white, she darted forward and spun straight into the throng like a ballet dancer, daggers flashing wildly.

It happened so quickly that Xaphile couldn't even see it.

Within ten to fifteen seconds, nearly half of them had fallen to the ground around her, screaming madly as they clutched wide gashes that had been opened up on their bodies. The rest backed off when she stopped dancing, holding her daggers out with practiced ease.

"Bitch," the leader sneered, eyes growing triumphant. "Big mistake."

That's when he realized why everything about this felt so wrong.

His eyes widened in horror just as the shadows in the trees moved.

"ELLA!" he roared, eyes widening in horror. "MOVE!"

When she looked at him in confusion, time seemed to slow down to the point where everything fell still. Not long after her eyes met his, the muddled twangs of bows releasing multiple volleys of arrows from beyond the treeline met his ears.

His heart nearly stopped when flashes of the real Ella lying dead in the snow seared behind his eyes.

She wasn't going to make it out of harm's way in time.

It was impossible... she wouldn't make it... unless...

Unless he did the unthinkable.

In that instant, he made his decision.

He didn't think.

He didn't _stop_ to think.

All he did was let instinct take over.

Before he could figure out what was happening, his irises erupted with aquamarine light and his legs propelled him into a headlong sprint. Hair exploding behind him, he lunged forward so quickly that he probably looked like a blur to those around him, but in his own perspective, everything still seemed slow.

He could hear his heart racing, every single beat... he could feel his long hair billowing out as he drew closer... the deadly weapons slowly arching up in a raining cloud of death. Lowering his torso, glowing eyes fierce with fury, he spread his arms and lunged, tackling her around the middle like a football player and crushing her against his chest.

A split second after he hit the ground, covering her body with his own, the arrows landed.

Most of them had gone wide, but one... one was all it took.

He jerked when it landed in his left shoulder, skewering him.

His pupils instantly contracted into pinpricks and he let out a wheeze, clawing at the dirt in agony.

"Fuck!" he spat, writhing on top of Ella, who lay stunned and frozen beneath him. "Owwww."

The pressure... the burning sensation, the heavy feeling... sharp agony... the scent of his own blood... it all washed over him, making his head go light nearly instantaneously.

"What are you doing?!" Ella suddenly screeched, hitting him in the face. "Get off me! Right now!"

When he pushed himself back, he realized she was red with fury, but then her eyes flicked to his shoulder, and she froze.

Instantly, her red face turned bone white.

Ignoring the agony washing over his body, Xaphile finally tore his gaze away from Ella's eyes and pushed himself off of her since he could hear the rest of the slavers charging. Left arm limp, he weakly danced from foot to foot and furiously struck out with his feet at anyone who came close, snarling like a wildcat.

Ella, on the other hand, merely sat stricken on the ground.

Her horrified eyes had locked onto the arrow sticking out of his back. A large dark spot was already seeping through his clothing, quickly staining his left shoulder completely red. Ella shivered a little in surprise, however, when the bleeding boy still managed to disarm and incapacitate nearly every single man attacking them using nothing but his own legs.

One of the slavers had been circling around, though, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Once the thug found an opening, he moved in with a savage war cry.

Xaphile, caught blind by the attack, put his uninjured arm up to protect his face.

Ella's eyes went blank and lost their sheen when the blade cut the skin on his pale hand wide open.

Blood began spilling down his palm and wrist in rivers when the slaver triumphantly raised the weapon again.

She was just about to roll to her feet and tear over with her weapons when Xaphile whirled towards the man in a bizarrely flexible manner and spun his foot out, sweeping his legs out from underneath his body. Then, lifting his foot high above his head, he brought the heel of his clawed foot down on the offender's stomach.

When the man gagged and vomited all over himself, the twangs of more arrows being fired filled the air. Growling, Xaphile whirled around and literally scooped Ella off the ground before sprinting out of danger. She shook when he took off into the woods, breathing heavily. The trees had them zigzagging in a dizzying manner, but he obviously didn't care.

"Stop it!" she cried, suddenly regaining her senses and flailing around. "Put me down! This instant!"

"Shut up," he hissed, clutching her all the tighter; her face twisted in horror when she felt the blood from his hand soaking her cloak, then glanced up to see that his face was going pale. "Don't say another word."

He could hear them coming.

Horses... footsteps...

Then they hit an unseen incline and abruptly flew forward over empty air. She screamed when they fell, but instead of dropping her, Xaphile twisted his body and landed on his back. The arrow embedded in his shoulder snapped and was shoved even deeper when he landed, holding her close as they tumbled clean into a tree.

The force of the impact sent Ella rolling out of his arms.

She shuddered when she came to a halt, feeling thoroughly disheveled in more ways than one. Xaphile struggled to get up, but merely fell over on his side again, staring off at nothing with glazed eyes and panting heavily.

"Get up!" Ella barked, hastily crawling over to him and gripping his arm. "Hurry!"

He struggled to move, but his limbs failed him.

"Go," he growled, eyes flicking up at her. "Right now."

She blanched, not believing her ears.

"Silence such madness, you fool!" she spat, hitting him upside the head. "Get _up_!"

"GO!" he snarled, making her jerk away with a start. "RUN, YOU IDIOT!"

"I refuse," she retorted. "You just saved my life! Why you did, I don't know, but I can't abandon you here after that: my pride won't allow it."

His next actions startled her.

Gripping her cloak with furious eyes, he jerked her face down within an inch of his own.

"I watched you die once already," he hissed, every word laced with venom, "and I would rather let myself die a second time than watch it happen again. Get your fucking ass out of here right now before I bite your god damn fingers off, Ella!"

She shivered, since his glare was genuinely the fiercest thing she'd ever seen.

She was torn.

But by the time she had a chance to figure out what to do, it was too late since the redhead who'd been chasing them came into view at the top of the hill. Lifting his sword, he let out a snarl and charged down the hill right at her. Xaphile violently shoved Ella out of the way and frantically struggled to raise himself into an upright position, but the slaver merely lowered his shoulder and tackled him.

His tail thrashed and he let out a wheeze when the man attempted to pin him down.

He kicked his legs and weakly pushed at the dirt with his feet, but the redhead merely raised the sword.

"Squirm, little maggot," he snarled, grinning nastily and revealing rotting teeth. "This is my favorite part... I get to watch the life bleed away from your very eyes..."

When he brought it down, Xaphile instinctively caught the blade between his palms, straining with all his might to keep the rusted point away from him.

He was losing the fight.

He had no strength left in him.

But then, in the blink of an eye, a flurry of silver came roaring at them. There was a squelching nose, and in an instant, where a snarling face had once been, there was instead a fountain of blood. Xaphile jolted when the man's body twitched and went limp, jerking violently. His whole torso was coated in a hot red spray, making his eyes widen in sheer horror.

With a terrified cry, Xaphile convulsed and frantically tried to get away from the spraying blood.

The blade fell out of the decapitated trunk's hands, and slowly, the slaver's twitching body tilted and landed on its side.

Xaphile nearly began to hyperventilate: shakily lifting his hands, he touched his soaked face with small, quivering irises.

Slowly turning his head, he looked at the twitching corpse.

Seeing all the blood, his pupils expanded to the point where they nearly obscured them. Before he could comprehend what had just happened, Ella roughly dragged him upright. Throwing his arm over her shoulder and angrily supporting his dead weight, the girl took off running, dragging his limp and stumbling form with her as fast as she could go.

The forest blurred as they fled.

It was getting harder and harder to see.

"Stay with me," Ella spat, drawing his consciousness back to full awareness; he hadn't even realized he'd been drifting away from it until she'd spoken. "Don't you dare die."

By the time the trees opened up in front of them and their campsite came into view, he felt as though he were about to faint. His vision was clouded with black and red spots... the prickles were blinding him. Amelia, Gus, and Lucy simultaneously leapt upright in horror.

"PHIL!" Amelia screeched, flying over to them and helping Ella lie him down on his stomach. "OH, GODS!"

"What happened?!" Lucy cried, looking at the two of them with huge eyes. "He's completely covered in blood!"

Xaphile felt the back of his shirt being cut open by something, but everything was going fuzzy.

"We were attacked by a group of slavers," Ella curtly explained, examining the broken arrow buried in his back. "Shite..."

"Slavers?!" Gus hissed, gripping his bow and hurrying over. "How many?"

"Thirty of them attacked with swords, more were in the trees," she retorted, scowling with intense focus as she carefully used one of her daggers to cut Xaphile's shoulder open. "Now, be silent! Amelia! Use your magic to slow his bleeding while I remove this arrow!"

"Y-yes, Ma'am!" Amelia squeaked, waving her hands with an arcane gesture; almost immediately, a flare of golden light engulfed them and she smacked them down onto Xaphile's head. "I'll try and heal his other injuries while you do that, but I can't make any promises since I'm still a novice with curative magic!"

"Just do it!" Ella snapped, watching as the golden glow extended through the boy's body; once his whole form was glowing, she began to cut the arrow out of his muscle, face twitching when he started writhing a little. "Don't squirm, you idiot! You'll injure yourself even more!"

Her words fell on deaf ears.

Sounds had faded into a dull mumble, and his eyes were sightless.

Spots had dominated his vision.

Almost instantly, he remembered Ella's last words... the words she'd spoken before dying.

" _I... can't see... anymore... Phil! Everything's... going... fuzzy... and I can only see spots. I can't even... see you anymore... where are you?!"_

"Spots," he croaked, voice coming out small and thin. "I'm dying."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Ella shrieked, frantically drawing the weapon out of his shoulder and throwing chunks of wood and metal off to the side. "Close it! Close his injury, right now!"

"I'll try!" Amelia squeaked, hands growing brighter. "Hang in there, Phil!"

"I don't," he croaked, lifting his hand and shivering all over as the sky turned dark and fuzzy in his vision. "want to."

Then, eyes rolling back, his arm fell to the ground.

"Xaphile!" Lucy shrieked, watching as his wound started to close with frightened brown eyes. "Hang on! Just hang on!"

"OPEN YOUR EYES, YOU IDIOT!" Ella roared, shaking his arm. "IF YOU DIE ON US, EVERYTHING IN THIS FOREST WILL GO WITH YOU!"

"Gus, keep Ella away from him!" Amelia snapped, checking his pulse; breath hitching, she made an arcane gesture and her hands began glowing gold. "Divines! Give me strength! This is the second time in a month that his heart has stopped beating!"

Once Ella had forcibly been dragged out of the way, she began doing the compressions.

Ella watched with a stunned expression as he lay still on the ground.

Waiting for him to move.

To open his eyes, to say something... to give her a sour look, if anything!

But he lay still... covered in blood, eyes closed... face pale...

And something began to tug at her memory as she stood there, staring at his face with blank eyes.

She watched as Amelia continued the compressions.

Watched as she pressed her lips against his own, plugged his nose, and huffed air into his lungs in the hopes of restarting his heart.

And the whole time she did so, there was that unfamiliar tug, as though something were struggling to surface into her mind.

All around them, with a pulse of energy that seemed to cry out in agony, trees and plants slowly began to lose their vibrant face went white with horror when the leaves of the forest turned brown and started raining down around them.

"XAPHILE!" Ella screamed, face turning red as she finally started panicking. "OPEN YOUR EYES!"

Gus honestly looked as though he were going to pass out from the strain of holding her back.

"BREATHE, PHIL!" Amelia finally screeched, losing her own composure. "BREATHE!"

However, through it all, his eyes remained closed.


	22. Chapter 22: Keys and Fire

**Chapter Twenty-One: Keys and Fire**

 _Black... it was all black... nothingness._

 _No color._

 _No light._

 _No sound._

 _Nothing_ _but_ _darkness that stretched on endlessly beyond his closed eyelids._ _He wanted to open his eyes... he wanted to see where he was, why everything was so windy... why he felt so weightless._

 _But he couldn't._

 _Arms drifting limply above him, body floating away... he floated through the dark._

 _This sensation was familiar._

 _Death._

 _Then... even though his eyes were closed... the darkness suddenly cracked like a pane of glass._

 _There was an unexpected flash of light, similar to a lightning strike, and it erased the darkness._

 _He saw something flickering in the light, almost seeming to form recognizable images._

 _His heart thumped as an inexplicable horror built up inside his soul._

 _They were fractured pieces of his memories on Earth. Pieces of his life with Ella... the one he still held closest to the gaping hole he called a heart_. _When the light faded and the darkness returned... so did his memories._

 _Everything went black again._

 _But before he could fade out,_ _another flash thumped against his heart, bringing the images back._

 _A ringing sensation unexpectedly filled his mind, making his lungs burn._

"Breathe!" _a distant voice screeched; another flash made his silent heart thump once again._ "Phil, BREATHE!"

 _"Xaphile!"_ someone else shrieked in a muffled tone. _"Xaphile, can you hear me?! OI! STOP IT! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"_

He knew that voice... he knew it like the back of his hand, although he didn't understand why it was so shrill...

 _"I wish Wendy were here!" a third female voice whispered. "She'd be able to help him easily!"_

 _"Is_ _he gonna_ _make it_ _?_ " a gruff male voice asked, sounding extremely worried. _"The trees... they're dying! Is he...?"_

 _"BREATHE!"_ the first voice wailed, just as another flash lit up us eyes. _"XAPHY, BREATHE!"_

Xaphy.

The nickname shredded through him like a knife and roused an extreme coughing fit. Choking violently, he started hacking uncontrollably and spat something warm and congealed out of his lungs... then he took multiple ragged breaths. It was then that he realized he was lying flat on an uneven and rough surface.

 _"Thank the divines!"_ Amelia's voice gasped. " _He's breathing... he's breathing!"_

 _"Still, we need to move..."_ the gruff voice, who Xaphile finally recognized as Gus, muttered. _"Those slavers could be here at any second. We need to pack up and move on quickly before they show up!"_

 _"I agree,"_ Ella's voice grunted. " _Amelia, your work here is done... you can let go of him now. I'll bind him to my hor-"_

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!" Amelia roared, instantly bringing his consciousness around.

His entire body twitched when the angry screech echoed off into the distance.

Xaphile's eyes fluttered a little, but then he opened them a crack and very nearly winced when the blue sky blinded him. He was mildly confused when he saw Ella and Gus standing over him. Even more confusing was the fact that a familiar brunette had thrown herself over his chest.

Her disheveled dark brown hair was obscuring her eyes and she was obviously shaken up, but what Xaphile couldn't comprehend was why she was keeping the others away.

"Have you lost your senses?" Ella snapped, slowly leaning down and extending her hand; however, she jumped back with a startled expression when the brunette slapped her fingers away. "HEY! What are you thinking?!"

"Hold your _thongue_!" Amelia shouted with a slur, lifting her head and revealing that her eyes were full of terrified tears. "I truly believe you've gone mad, Ella! This was your fault!"

"A-Amelia!" Ella squeaked, staring at her with an outraged expression. "That is not true!"

"Don't lie!" Amelia shrieked, making everyone shrink in the face of her wrath. "This _is_ your fault!"

"No!" Ella shouted back, staring at the brunette with a furious expression. "I did nothing!"

"EXACTLY!" Amelia cried, smacking Xaphile's chest and causing another flash of light to sear through his head; his body jolted as the strange power flooded through him, refreshing his senses and making him cough up more of that bizarre mucus in his throat. "THAT'S PRECISELY WHY HE HAD AN ARROW IN HITH BACK! YOU DID NOTHING!"

"I rescued him, didn't I?! If it hadn't been for me, he'd be dead right now!"

"You're supposed to be a legend because of how many lives you've saved, Ella!" Amelia retorted. "I find it very hard to stomach the fact that you don't care for his at all!"

"I beg your pardon?" Ella snapped, folding her arms. "What does me not caring have to do with this?!"

"Everything! _"_ Amelia retorted. "I used to respect and look up to you despite the tragedy of ten years ago, but as of late... I can't help but feel as though some of the things you've been doing are utterly horrible! I can't stand it! Until you do fix that prejudiced attitude of yours, I implore you, stay well away from Phil! _"_

As she spoke, she smacked his chest again; he instantly choked as a horrible taste enveloped his mouth, coupled with a barrage of coppery smells.

"I cannot, and _will_ not, take orders from you," Ella informed her, pink eyes growing dangerously frigid. "Regardless of your feelings, the matter here is simple: I am the daughter of a Count, and you are one of the villagers I govern. And this is no time for petty emotions! Let him go and help me get him onto one of our horses!"

Coughing a few more times, Xaphile spat whatever was in his lungs out and finally turned his face to the side.

"Amelia..." he wheezed, making her glance at him with a startled expression. "I think... I'm okay now."

Gus and Lucy stepped away when he opened his eyes a little more.

"P-P-P-P-P-P-P-Phil!" Amelia exclaimed, instantly gripping his shoulders and shaking him violently. "You've come around! Are you still hurting anywhere?! How is your shoulder?!"

"Ow, ow, ow," he coughed out, grimacing at the movement. "OW! Cut it out! It only hurts where you're grabbing me!"

She instantly jerked her arms back.

"Deepest apologies," she sniffed, plopping her hands in her lap, "but are you really okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Xaphile wheezed, curling up on his side and coughing violently; when more of that gross clotted crap came up, he spat it out and blinked at it. To his alarm, it was congealed blood, and the sight of it made him feel extremely nauseous. Grimacing, he slowly sat up and touched his throbbing shoulder.

The pain was considerably less, but he was still very light-headed and everything was spinning.

"Are you okay?" Ella warily asked, making him blink and look up. "The wound... is gone, but..."

"I'm still breathing," he pointed out, shakily attempting to crawl to his feet; he failed, but when his limbs gave out, someone caught him. He glanced up to see Ella's face so close to him that her silver lashes could have brushed against his own. "Like I said, still breathing, so I guess that means I'm fine."

"You can't even stand on your own," she growled, giving Amelia a dark look before she glanced at Gus, who looked as though he didn't know how to handle the drama occurring in front of him. "You will ride with Octavius. You aren't steady enough to sit on your own horse."

"Do I look dead to you?" Xaphile grumpily inquired, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm fine."

Ella raised her own eyebrows, then pointedly let go.

He face-planted in the dirt like a rag doll.

"Ow..." he grunted, not moving a muscle. "Okay, maybe not as fine as I thought..."

"Amelia, help me gather everything," Ella rapped out, making the brunette get to her feet. "Gus, get our horses ready. And make sure you hold on tightly to that sprite: I owe him after what he did for me."

With that, Xaphile was dragged off the ground by a strong set of arms and carried over to the horses. Camp was wrapped up in a flurry of action, and soon everyone was mounted. With a great toss of the reigns, Xaphile's body was limply thrown back against Octavius's chest.

Head still light, he swayed with the motion of the ride, but not for long.

They all came screeching to a halt since the group of men who'd been looking for them were already waiting.

"Shite," Gus grumbled, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back and notching his bow. "Trouble."

Ella's eyes were darker than the exhausted bags beneath them.

"Move out of our way," she barked, holding her head up high. "NOW!"

"You'll not get past us!" the man in the front snarled, making the pale girl narrow her eyes. "Not after you cut down and injured so many of our comrades!"

Ella literally looked close to blowing a blood vessel.

But before she could say another word, Lucy sighed and ushered her horse forward, moving in front of her.

Ella stiffened at being cut off, but the blonde girl simply looked at the slavers.

"You, there," she called, voice coming out sharper than a blade. "Tell me... was it you who injured Phil?"

The group of men shared a look, but the grubby brunette sidled forward, keeping a safe distance between them.

"You talkin' about that creepy demon kid?" he laughed, cocking his head back as he eyed her supple figure up and down. "Yeah, we're the ones who struck him down. I'm actually surprised he managed to live through it."

Almost immediately, Lucy's shoulders tensed and her fingers moved to hover above her keys.

"Are you going to leave us alone?" she called in a pleasant tone. "Or will I have to get serious?"

"It's normally against my policy to kill women," the man snorted, drawing his sword and gesturing for the archers behind him to ready their arrows, "but today, I'll make an exception. You're too cocky for my taste."

Ella's face tensed and she gasped when the archers fired.

"L-Lucy! MOVE!" she shrieked, voice rising to an impossible octave. "Spur your horse!"

In what seemed like slow motion, Lucy grabbed a singular golden key from the ring and lifted her hand to the sky, head tilting back of its own accord: her pigtails exploded from their confines and her whole body was suffused in golden light when she twisted her hand.

"Open," she murmured, "gate of the Archer!"

With a flash of light, a man wearing what looked like a horse costume appeared in front of her.

"You called?" he questioned.

"The arrows!" Lucy yelped, flailing her arms. "Stop those arrows!"

She covered her face, but just before the arrows impaled her, the man who'd appeared out of thin air conjured a bow with a flash of light, then rapidly drew a myriad of arrows from the quiver on his back. With accurate precision, he drew all of them and released: to everyone's shock, all of the projectiles collided.

Ella jumped, eyes growing round.

"She's a Celestial Wizard?" the man squalled. "That can't be!"

"Enough," Amelia said softly, sidling up beside Lucy and letting out a sigh. "Leave us be!"

"Not a chance!" the man snarled. "Fire! Fire until they hit!"

When more twangs came, Amelia made an arcane flourish and swept both hands out. With her braided hair flying like ropes of gloss, she rapidly whispered something: Lucy gawked when the arrows exploded into flame and dissolved. Then a circular wall of fire exploded out of the earth and cut the group of men off.

"AGH! NO! YOU FOUL WITCHES!"

Lowering her hands, Amelia turned and looked at her stunned companions with a serious expression.

"Let's go, now!" she commanded, spurring her horse on and flying down the road. "My magic will hold them there for a while! Now is our chance to get away!"

"I'm closing the gate now, Sagittarius!" Lucy stammered, holding her key out. "Thanks for the help!"

"As you wish, Lucy."

When she twisted the key, with another flash of light, the man disappeared.

Xaphile got a nasty dose of whiplash when Gus spurred the horse. Head lolling, he tried to keep his senses, but he was finding it more and more difficult since his vision was once again clouding over with spots.

Coughing violently, he spat more of the filthy copper taste out of his mouth, stomach turning. He eventually pressed himself against Gus's chest, clawed hands clenched tightly into fists that drew blood and tail frantically curling around the man's waist.

His breathing turned ragged so quickly that Gus actually glanced down at him in concern.

"Hang in there," he muttered, looking extremely uneasy. "We'll take it easy once we're safe."

Xaphile's eyes opened, but his pupils were much too large.

"I'm fine!" he hissed through his teeth. "Don't worry!"

He wasn't fine. An idiot could see that he wasn't fine. But before Gus could think of anything that might help, Xaphile let out a soft groan and gracelessly went limp. He would have fallen off the horse had the man not caught him and held him up.

They rode nonstop, deep into the afternoon and on into the night, and only once they were safely out of danger did they stop to rest. After tying their horses and setting up camp again, Octavius lifted Xaphile out of the saddle and lowered him to the ground, but he was breathing rapidly and his face was bone white.

All around them, the forests were completely black since they'd fled for the rest of the day. The sun had long-since set during their escape, but they'd all agreed not to make another campfire, since it would have drawn the attention of whoever was nearby.

"Is he still injured?" Gus eventually demanded, looking at Ella and Amelia, who'd also disembarked. "Why does he look so weak?!"

"Probably blood loss," Lucy tentatively explained, looking at him with worry. "You should get him on a bed roll so he can rest. With the kind of wound he had, and after losing so much blood, he'll definitely need it."

"I agree, so from here on out," Ella barked, "each of us is going to take a precautionary watch."

"I'll go first," Amelia murmured, brown hair disheveled; she was sorting through her clothes, obviously looking for something to change into. "You three haven't had an opportunity to sleep, and since Phil is in no condition to do anything but rest, I'll make sure nobody sneaks up on us."

"Speaking of which," Gus grimly retorted, getting up and looming behind her. "Care to explain yourself?"

"If you're referring to my Pyromancy," she casually told him, primly taking off her glasses, "it's really not all that surprising if you think about who my father was."

"I beg to differ!" Ella retorted, quirking an eyebrow. "Your fire magic outclasses anything I've seen from normal wizards!"

"If you think her fire magic was impressive," Lucy snorted, blinking rapidly, "you guys should meet Natsu."

"Who?"

"A very good friend of mine from Fairy Tail," Lucy explained, shrugging. "Everyone in town refers to him as the Salamander because he specializes in Fire Dragon Slayer Magic. It's ridiculously powerful."

"That may be so, but it doesn't explain any of the questions I have about Amelia! Focus!" Gus growled, scowling at her; then he glanced at the brunette. "If you're really such a powerful wizard, why is your healing magic so lacking? There have been times when your true strength could have saved lives."

"Magic is most effective when its in tune with the soul of the caster," Amelia casually explained, not looking at him. "A number of things come into play for that, including heritage and personal desires while conjuring it."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," Amelia countered, frowning at him. "My father was very attuned to fire magic at the time of my conception, so my affinity to it is just as strong as his was. I wasn't lying when I said my healing and curative magic is nothing special: it's actually very hard for me to use it."

"Why have you never spoken of your ability to use Pyromancy?" Octavius demanded, furrowing his brows. "When did your father start teaching you?"

"I never had a reason to say anything," she sighed, standing up and turning around with folded hands. "Fire magic is destructive in nature, and my own personal desires go against my affinity with it. I don't like using pyromancy unless its absolutely necessary. And to answer your question, my father began to teach me everything about it from the moment I was old enough to understand things."

Everyone stared at her when she pushed her tangled brown hair out of her eyes.

"Enough," Ella finally muttered, looking as though she were going to collapse at any second. "We had enough conflict for today."

"I agree," Amelia politely agreed, taking her clothes and sidling off out of sight. "I will be back in a moment."

"Same," Lucy muttered, shaking her head. "I'm going to put on a change of clothes."

After the two of them departed, Ella unpacked her own bedroll and shed her cloak for the evening.

Dragging her boots off one at a time, she began to get irritated with herself since she kept shooting small, involuntary glances at Xaphile's unconscious form out of the corner of her eyes. His breathing was strained, his face was chalky, and his body was totally covered in dry blood.

After a moment, she turned her head and glanced at Gus.

He had already removed his shoes and was currently unrolling his own sleeping bag.

"Is he really going to be okay?" she demanded, gesturing at Xaphile when the man looked up. "He seems to be in pain even though we've mostly healed him."

"As that Lucy girl said, the culprit is likely blood loss, so I'm sure he'll be a bit better by tomorrow," Gus grunted, shaking his head. "What I want to know is how he received such a terrible injury in the first place."

Ella's jaw tightened and she glared at the ground.

"The idiot took an arrow for me," she ground out, wincing when he stiffened in shock. "We were ambushed by the slavers, and I didn't realize there were archers in the trees until it was too late."

"Be more specific," Gus growled, making her stiffen; out of everything she'd figured he would have said, _that_ certainly hadn't been on the list. "Tell me everything, not just bits and pieces! You both came back covered in blood that wasn't your own, so explain to me how it happened!"

Her face twisted in disgust, but she couldn't place why she felt so mad.

It was almost as though she didn't know who to be mad at.

Drawing her right knee up to her chin and setting her head on it, she scowled at the darkness.

"I saw Xaphile being attacked by a sleazy-looking man," she grumbled, "so came to his aid."

"And?" Gus pressed, scowling when she fell silent for a little too long. "Please, my Lady... continue."

"When the group attacked us, he tried to stop me from charging in," she told him, gesturing at Xaphile's prone form. "He wanted us to run from the fight, so I intentionally went out there."

"You what?!"

"Well, it isn't _my_ fault he wanted to run like a coward!" she snapped. "I cut down a great number of them when the archers..."

Her voice trailed off when she noticed just how pissed off Gus looked.

"That boy isn't a coward of any sort!" he spat, making the albino jump. "Quite the contrary, on the day I found him, he actually took down an entire group of boar demons with his _bare hands_ just to save my life!"

"Then why did he want to run from them?!" she snapped. "Why would he order me to draw them away?"

It was only when she saw how he began looking at her that she realized what she'd just said. She froze when it clicked. Face going blank, her eyes flashed to Xaphile's prone form only a split second before her body went cold. Recalling the words he'd spoken, she thought over them carefully, then remembered that he'd been looking at the trees the whole time.

" _Instead of going right to them,"_ his voice echoed, _"you and I are going to to draw them away from here."_

 _I was wrong,_ she realized, hair standing on end. _He wasn't trying to run away, he somehow knew that the archers were there, waiting to strike me. Why else would he have been looking right at them?!_

She almost lost her temper, instinctively feeling it had to be a betrayal of some sort... but then she deflated.

If he had intentionally betrayed her, he wouldn't have taken an arrow for her.

That much, she was sure of.

"You didn't listen to him," Gus muttered. "If what you say is true, he probably knew it was reckless to charge in the way you always do, but you didn't listen!"

"So?" she snapped, folding her arms. "He's only a forest sprite! Fairy or not, I still don't trust him!"

Gus nearly blew a blood vessel: face turning dark maroon, he glared at her with hostile eyes.

"Lady Amelia was correct," he growled, clenching his jaw. "You need to get rid of that attitude."

Ella's jaw dropped in shock.

"You KNOW why I am the way I am, and also why that kind of thing will never happen," she spat, grinding her teeth. "I can't trust anything inhuman! You know this!"

"BUT YOU WERE THE ONE IN THE WRONG THIS TIME!" Gus finally roared, getting to his feet and clenching his fists. "That boy took a damnable _arrow_ to the back for _you_ even AFTER all of the terrible things you've done to him!"

"Why are you yelling at me?!" she squeaked, looking stunned. "Gus!"

"Why _wouldn't_ I yell at you, Ella?!" he bellowed. "I want you to remember my words, because this could have been avoided had you simply LISTENED TO SOMEONE ELSE FOR ONCE!"

She jerked back with startled eyes when he finally looked away.

He was right... no matter how much she hated it, he was right.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she weakly mumbled, lowering her eyes when he glanced at her in surprise. "I... I know I'm prone to losing my temper, and that I'm a sorry excuse for a countess... I'm barely a real lady. In the future, you have my word that I'll attempt to listen to what others are saying. Can... you forgive me?"

Gus stared at her rigid posture and lowered head with disbelief, but then his tension dissolved.

"I'm not the one you need to beg forgiveness from," he sighed, lifting a hand and pointing at Xaphile. "He is."

Ella looked at the unconscious boy with a grim expression.

"Ella, listen," Gus sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead. "I do understand your anger, and I also understand why you are the way you are. But you are still very young and inexperienced, and that is why you must listen to what others are saying. If you don't, you will never learn or grow into a woman who can properly govern the southlands."

"But he makes me angry," she protested, lifting her eyes. "It's hard to listen when I don't even want to hear what he has to say!"

"You mustn't let your anger cloud your judgement," Gus sharply told her, "for it is through that particular lack of focus that fatal mistakes can happen."

For a long moment, she was silent, then she lifted her eyes.

"I will take your words to heart," Ella told him quietly, meeting his gaze without hesitation. "As much as I dislike admitting it, I _am_ still very inexperienced, and anger does indeed cloud judgement. I will apologize to him once he is conscious and well again. You have my word."

"Good."

"Now, I'm tired..." Ella mumbled. "I'm going to sleep."

"As am I," Gus sighed, shaking his head and sliding into his blankets. "It has been far too long since I last slept."

When they both flopped down for the night, they didn't see the lone figure beyond the treeline. Leaning against the bark in a green tunic and a fresh set of trousers, Amelia stood listening with her eyes shadowed.

She'd heard every single word.

And she did _not_ look happy about it.


	23. Chapter 23: I'm warning you

**Author's Note:** **This story now has a video trailer! Feel free to head over to YouTube and type in (** Fairy Tail Fanfiction Trailer: BILY Aaron Ledgers) **if you want to watch it!**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: I'm Warning You**

 _Nothingness stretched in all directions, arching over his head and under his feet. It was almost as though the earth and sky had both been dipped in colorless paint that had rendered everything both dark and light at once._

 _"Poor child," someone sneered. "So alone. So afraid."_

 _Xaphile wanted to tell whoever it was that he wasn't afraid, but his voice didn't seem to work the way he was used to. He tried to look down, but he didn't seem to have a neck, or eyes, for that matter. It was as if his consciousness had been pulled from his body and left suspended in the air of a world made of nothing._

 _He had no form, no shape, no physical essence. But he could see all around, three hundred and sixty degrees of awareness that looked everywhere at once, and his voice... if that's what it even was... seemed to have no trouble being heard despite his lack of a mouth or vocal chords._ _It occurred to him, as he floated, that not having a body should have frightened him... but then again, he'd already been through so many bizarre situations that this one was kind of tame._

 _Been there, done that, as the saying goes._

 _"Of course you're afraid," the voice told him, tone resonating with impatience and pity. "Why shouldn't you be, when you look the way you do? T_ _hey hate you because you're a monster. I'd hate you, too, if I was them... you're so ugly it's almost laughable."_

 _If he'd had a throat, it would have swelled with the foreshadowing of tears._

 _He wanted to tell whoever this was that he wasn't ugly... that even as a monster, he wasn't a disgusting creature._

 _But almost as if it could hear him, the voice answered his thoughts with a response._

 _"Of course you are," the one taunting him snickered. "Look at you."_

 _The 'sky' in front of him cracked, showering him with light and shadow as it glazed over and became solid in a wave of color. It hurt to look at after being exposed to a world so lacking in substance. It reflected everything and nothing, a mirror in a world with nothing to reflect, and as he studied its contours a dark shape blossomed 'below' him and surged upward. Suddenly, he had a face and a body: he could see himself._

 _A devilish monstrosity, with two huge horns extending from his skull and curling around his long ears._

 _Snarling mouth, with four huge fangs expanding from his upper and lower jaw..._

 _Bright yellow eyes, glaring out of a demonic face hooded with raw agony and hatred._

 _"Look," the voice whispered; the mirror roared towards him until it was only a single inch from the tip of his nose. "Look at yourself and tell me that you're not the most hideous creature in existence."_

 _He wanted to deny it: truly, he did. But those demonic features, that marred expression, that horribly disjointed body, those empty yellow eyes, and the mouth that concealed rows of jagged, serrated teeth... he was the ugliest, most frightening, most abhorrent creature to ever, ever live... and when he beheld his true face, he actually screamed._

 _The sound ripped from behind those horrible teeth like the sound of gunfire and war drums and dying children._

 _"Trust in me," the voice whispered. "I can give you your old form back, I can give you back your world, whatever you desire. I can make you happy, Xaphile, if only you'll swear your loyalty to me."_

 _He wanted to be normal again._

 _He opened his mouth and..._

Nothing happened.

He was jarred awake by something before he could say anything.

Waking up from the dream felt like being born, thrust so cruelly back into reality that he felt at odds with the cocoon of warmth he had been wrapped inside of. Too weak to move, he retched so hard that he was sure he should have vomited, but he hadn't eaten anything in a while.

All that came up was a drop of bile and saliva that made his throat burn.

The darkness of the night pressed in, lapping at his skin like wolves.

Chills made his lower back tighten until he could hardly move from tension, but as he lay there, something cold was pressed against his chest, and he only vaguely realized it was there because it was wet. After a moment the sensation disappeared... then returned with a slow stroking motion.

The feeling repeated itself continuously.

Not long after, he felt whatever it was stroking his forehead.

Then it disappeared.

Shivering thanks to the chilled wetness on his skin, Xaphile wearily opened his eyes and glanced around, trying to figure out what was going on. He was lying in the middle of the woods, and judging by the dark sky and moon hovering high above, it was still in the middle of the night.

Blinking several times, he looked down at himself and realized that he was shirtless.

There were several bloodstained rags lying on the ground, which puzzled him greatly. He spotted Gus and Lucy sleeping nearby in what looked to be thick piles of blankets, but Ella and Amelia were nowhere to be seen. With a groan, he sat up and touched his forehead, more than a little disoriented and nauseous.

"You're awake," someone said softly. "Was it I who woke you?"

Xaphile's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned around.

Ella was standing near the edge of the clearing without her cloak on, staring at him with reserved pink eyes. She looked fairly well-rested, although her silver hair was slightly messy. Unfortunately, the sight of her led to a myriad of very conflicted and sharp emotions inside his breast.

After a few moments of silence, he gave her a simple shrug and chose to stare at the ground.

His long tail flicked around, brushing against the dirt when she walked over with a bucket of what looked to be water and knelt down in front of him, pulling a small, damp strip of cloth out of it. When she stretched her hands out, he winced since the rag was extremely chilly.

It was then that he realized that she was using it to wash the dried blood off of him.

For a long moment, he felt extremely uncomfortable.

Then he raised his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he quietly demanded, looking at her thin, white arms for any sign of bruising. "You're not hurt, right?"

Her hands stilled and the rag stopped moving.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, when I tackled you," he muttered uneasily, "I wasn't gentle because there was no time to react. I also landed on you pretty hard. You aren't bruising or anything, are you?"

Her face twitched and she stared at him in disbelief.

Then, nostrils flaring, she closed her eyes and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"In comparison to what _could_ have happened," she growled, glaring harshly at his chest and returning to scrubbing him a little more harshly, "a bruise is nothing. I am no stranger to them since I, too, was a trainee with a dull sword at one point. I am fine."

He nodded twice.

"Good. So, what time is it? And how long have I been out of it?"

"It's fairly early in the morning," she curtly retorted, not looking at his face; pulling away, she wrung the bloodied water out of the rag and dunked the cloth in the bucket again. "I awoke feeling full of energy, so I assume more than seven hours have passed since I first closed my eyes."

He acknowledged that with another small nod.

Mouth taut, she scrubbed, looking extremely frustrated.

In the end, though, she finally pulled back and looked at him with distrust.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded. "I don't understand. It's no secret that we thoroughly dislike each other, so why did you save me? You could have just... let it happen. Why didn't you?"

Her mouth twitched when he slowly turned his head, eyes landing on her face.

"Are you crazy?" he lowly inquired. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I would wish _death_ on you."

Her brows furrowed.

"But, you _knew_ ," she hissed, making him blink. "You knew that they were there! I saw your eyes when you held me back... you were focused on the trees!"

He blinked again, then tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

"I didn't actually know there _were_ people in the trees until they started moving," he explained, not looking away from her for once. "If I _had_ known there were people with weapons hiding beyond those creeps, I wouldn't have let you go out there at all. I'd have forcibly dragged you away."

"Then why were you looking right at them?" she snapped. "It doesn't make sense!"

"I don't know," he retorted; clenching his jaw, he rubbed his face. "It simply felt like that whole situation was off. I can't explain it. Something in my gut told me not to move into the clearing because it felt _wrong!_ "

She took his response with a measured amount of silence.

"It was because of me that you were injured," Ella carefully told him. "Why are you not angrier?"

"Angry?" Xaphile snorted, not taking his eyes off the ground. "I don't think angry is the right word."

"Then, what word _would_ you use?" Ella grumbled, going back to scrubbing the blood off his chest. "Pray, tell."

"I don't know. I don't feel much of anything at all anymore. Even after all that, I'm just... _numb_."

When she said it, something in her face darkened.

Slowly setting the rag down, she sat back and unhappily stared at the ground.

"I am afraid I owe you an apology," she stated quietly, making him stiffen a little. "I have been less than civilized to you. Almost monstrous, in truth. I will make no excuses for the things I've said and done until this point."

He stared at her blankly.

"What?"

"My actions towards you were wrong," she sourly explained, as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth. "Very wrong indeed. Despite this, you've saved my life. I greatly... misjudged you."

Xaphile felt his stomach clench with an immense amount of dislike when she looked at him.

Just like that, he wanted nothing more than to put distance between them.

"It was nothing," he muttered, startling her by getting to his feet and walking toward the forest. "There was no need to apologize."

"Where are you going?"

"Away. I don't know where just yet."

"You shouldn't be moving around after losing so much blood," she snapped, getting to her feet. "Lie down and rest!"

Xaphile ignored her and continued walking.

Her apology had been the most ingenuine thing he'd ever seen. Saying nothing at all would have been the more intelligent thing to do since the ugly expression she'd given him while apologizing clearly showed him how she truly felt. The way her eyes had regarded him actually hurt a little.

As if he were something... unclean.

Something vile.

Something not worth apologizing to.

A monster.

Tail brushing against the foliage, Xaphile walked through the shadows until he stepped into a moonlit clearing and saw the sky. He instantly halted in his tracks, arms hanging limply at his sides as he gazed up at the stars, but her nasty, disgusted expression flashed behind his eyes again, blotting out his vision.

Then, dizziness swamped him and he suddenly felt light-headed.

A gentle wind blew through the clearing, tugging on several strands of his dark hair as he sank down to his knees and fell over on his side. He curled up into a little ball, trying to fight back the torrent of confusion and pain that had risen to the surface of his heart. Her words would not make him trust her after seeing that look.

He could forgive her.

Hell, the moment her stupidity had gotten them in that mess, he'd forgiven her.

It wasn't in his nature to hold a grudge.

But trusting her was another story entirely.

Then again, that was the main reason he didn't understand why her expression as she'd apologized had burned his heart in such an awful manner. He didn't know what to believe in anymore. For him, the concept of life was now so complicated and confusing that it was beyond his level of comprehension.

Here in the realm of fantasy, nothing seemed to work how he expected it to.

Not even his own busted heart.

When a twig snapped somewhere in the darkness behind him, he shakily sat up and turned around, looking for the person lurking in the shadows. His brow twitched with irritation when he realized that Ella had followed him. Taking a minute to stand back up, he slinked back into the forest, hoping she'd take a hint.

Unfortunately, she simply shadowed him again.

After several minutes of this slow game of cat and mouse, Xaphile finally turned around.

"Stop following me," he muttered, glaring at her before stalking off a third time. "I want to be alone."

Ella ignored him and continued to match his pace, refusing to speak or lower her eyes.

They walked for ten minutes.

In the end, he gave up trying to get away from her and sat down on a log, but when she sat down next to him and thrust a chunk of bread in front of his nose, he turned his head away and refused to take it.

"You do not forgive me," Ella finally noted, looking at him with a calm visage. "I understand this, but you need to regain your strength. We are going to be traveling again once the others wake up, and you mustn't allow yourself to be weakened by your current condition. Eat."

"I have no appetite," he retorted, leaning away from the food she was thrusting at him. "Leave me alone."

"Do you still not understand that your actions affect my world?" the albino finally snapped. "Everything you do, every breath you take, every whim or desire that passes through your head... all of it bends my world, my home, to your will! I don't want to watch everything fade away... so please, eat!"

"No! I don't care! Seriously, just leave me alone, fuck!" Xaphile finally spat, abruptly getting to his feet and clenching his fists without looking at her. "Go back to the camp and get the hell away me! Can't you take the hint that I don't want to talk to you right now?!"

When her mouth fell open, he stormed away from her... but he didn't get very far, because she gripped his wrist and attempted to jerk him around. For a few seconds, he fought against her, but with a snarl she hooked her foot behind his leg and jerked him off balance.

With an unexpected jolt, he fell flat on his ass and the shock of hitting the dirt made his spine shudder. Teeth jarring from the rough impact, his fangs clipped like a pair of pruning shears, and for a long moment he could only blink in stupefied confusion. Before he could figure out what had just happened, she was right in front of him, flashing between his legs and spreading them apart with her feet.

With rough hands, she clutched his left horn and violently jerked his head back

Then she leaned down, and pinned as he was, he actually couldn't move an inch.

"Just because I've apologized and genuinely regret what I've done," Ella hissed, glaring into his eyes with only an inch between their noses. " _does_ not mean I will tolerate you talking to me the way you do. I am nobility, and regardless of my ill behavior towards you, you should at the very least show me a _modicum_ of respect!"

The moment she said it, disgust swept through him, so hot and heavy that his face contorted with fury.

When his mouth twisted and he bared his teeth, she actually let go of him and backed off with a start.

Before he could stop them, words came pouring out of his mouth like acid.

"You say you want respect from me?" he spat, slowly getting to his feet and looming over her like a tower of bad temper. "Then fucking earn it. Because as of right now, nobility or not, you have _none_ of it."

When she folded her arms in an affronted manner, he narrowed his eyes, trying to fight down his anger.

"How?" she carefully inquired, making the heat burning in his heart cool off a little; perplexity momentarily flashed within his mind. "What must I do to gain it?"

For a long moment, he could only stare at her... then he stepped back and leaned against a nearby tree, folding his own arms. Ella blinked when he glared at the ground, crossing his leg at the thigh, trying to look more relaxed than his rigid posture telegraphed.

"For one thing," he muttered, eventually lifting his gaze. "I hate violence. If you want my respect, stop resorting to it for everything. For another, you know nothing about me. So stop judging me based on my looks. If you want me to respect you, show me you're someone I can actually give it to."

"Excuse me?" she waspishly scoffed. "You're a strange one! In this world, only the violent survive!"

His resulting frown could have made a tiger piss itself, but she kept the smirk up anyway. He noticed that her irises shone slightly in the dark, glimmers of fuchsia that rippled like beacons in a raging sea, instead of feeding into her antagonism, however, he turned around and left her standing alone in the dark, becoming little more than a moving shadow in the gloom.

"I'll leave you to figure out what you want to do," he bitterly called, walking away with a stiff back. "As it stands, you seem to be fine, so I have nothing more to say to you."

"Fine, you mental ox!" she barked, swiveling around and heading back towards the camp. "Do as you please!"

Needless to say, she was angry since he'd spurned her even though she'd apologized. Stalking through the woods, she paced in circles for about ten minutes trying to get rid of her irritation. She grumbled about his attitude and kicked a few things until something met her ears.

Her eyes went blank and she stilled, rage momentarily forgotten.

She could hear his voice.

A smooth, velvety song was being carried on the wind.

Lyrics spoken in a strange language mingled with a haunting tune that came floating through the air like liquid silver. Eyes vacant with shock, she slowly turned her head and listened. Goosebumps began rising up on her body. Deep and gentle, yet strangely light, his hauntingly beautiful song echoed out over the forest, carrying towards the camp in a language she didn't understand.

His voice rose and fell in wavering octaves, like waves upon a disturbed pond. It was almost as if it had become the very wind itself, meshing and twisting throughout the world. All around her, plants seemed to droop, but to her relief, none of them seemed to be dying. She was so lost in listening to the strange song that she didn't notice it when someone walked into view from around a tree.

Ella nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned and saw the silhouette, but before she could draw her daggers, she realized it was only Amelia.

"Gods above," Ella groaned, clutching her hammering heart with a sigh. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Amelia didn't respond.

In fact, her ocean blue eyes were oddly cold.

"May I have a word with you?" she quietly asked, folding her small hands. "I have matters I wish to discuss."

"I'm a little busy," Ella retorted, feeling distinctly annoyed. "What do you want?"

Amelia's eyes flashed behind her glasses, and after a moment, she closed them, taking a very deep breath through her nose.

"I want to know what you two were just talking about," she murmured. "Tell me everything."

"I'm afraid that's none of your business," Ella stiffly replied, moodily glaring at the dirt.

"Oh, but I get the feeling that it _is_ my business," Amelia said in a pleasant tone of voice; however, her eyes were very sharp and she looked angry despite her manner of speaking. "And if it _isn't,_ then I'm _making_ it my business. I want to know what you two just talked about, this instant. Speak."

"Back off, Amy!" Ella snapped, turning around with a glare. "It has nothing to do with you!"

Amelia stared at her so angrily in that moment, however, that she knew she'd just made a mistake.

"First of all... _never_ call me Amy," she said in a dangerously quiet tone of voice. "Ever. Do you understand? Countess or not, you don't have the right to use my pet name, since only those who are special to me have that luxury. Second, this situation has _everything_ to do with me, because unlike you, I actually care about Phil."

"We're all obligated to care for him," Ella bitterly pointed out. "If something happens to him, our lands will die."

"You misunderstand," Amelia noted, tilting her head. "I care for him not because he has ties to our land... and not because he's vital for the South's survival."

Ella's brows raised in alarm.

"You're saying you genuinely care for that boy?" she scoffed, not believing her ears. "Are you mad, Amelia?!"

"No, I assure you, I'm quite sane," she carefully replied. "I happen to think of Phil as a friend, and that's why I can't stand watching you force your beliefs on him."

"I'm no longer forcing anything on him!" Ella snapped, stalking forward and glaring up at her. "I've apologized, haven't I?"

"Not for _real_."

Her face twitched in irritation.

"My apology was genuine," she snapped, clenching her fists. "He simply refused to accept it!"

"Then apologize until he does!

"And why should I do that?!"

"Because that boy has wounds that likely stretch deeper than both of ours combined!" Amelia snapped, finally stomping her foot. "Perhaps even deeper than that of old Marty and the others!"

"In what way could his suffering ever compare to our own?!" Ella spat, looking outraged by the thought. "Are you mad?!"

"I don't know. Do I _seem_ mad to you?" Amelia sarcastically inquired. "We've both lost many people that we loved, but when it comes down to it, we weren't alone with our sorrows!"

Ella paused for a second.

"What are you getting at?" she lowly demanded.

"Not being alone made the losses bearable," Amelia grimly informed her. "Phil has nobody but us, and right now he is suffering the same way we once did, only _he_ is doing it all alone by himself. At an age where he can fully comprehend what's happening, too. Can you not imagine how nightmarish this situation must be for him?"

Ella shivered _not_ because she actually had a damn good point, but because seeing Amelia angry was unusual and very out of the ordinary. Growing up, she had always been a very meek and kind girl, but right then she was actually kind of intimidating.

"Nightmarish or not," Ella muttered. "He has refused to accept my apology."

Amelia's nostrils flared.

"I know you were betrayed ten years ago by someone special to you," she finally hissed, "but that didn't warrant _any_ of the horrible things you've done to that poor boy. In fact, he was probably one of the few beings in this entire _world_ who could have actually understood your pain."

"Amelia, look, I don't-"

"I'm not finished!" she shouted, blue eyes blazing; Ella abruptly clamped her mouth shut. "If you had treated Phil with kindness instead of scorn, it's very likely that all of this could have been avoided."

"Eh?" Ella whispered, eyes going blank. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she whispered, glaring at her with a heavy scowl, "that you were the catalyst that destroyed his heart. Had you simply shown mercy and kindness the way I did, it's very likely that things might have turned out differently."

"What makes you think that?"

"I can see the things you don't because I trust him," Amelia retorted. "And truly? He could have cared for you on a much more profound degree than your little _cat_ friend ever did."

Ella's cheeks turned whiter than her hair.

"How dare you," she whispered, face blank with horror. "How dare you bring that up...?"

"The past can never be erased," Amelia sweetly retorted, sticking out her tongue; Ella winced when she saw the horrible, mutilated scar along the top of the organ. "After all, scars never go away, even those on the face of history."

Ella's eyes saddened and she guiltily looked away, biting her own tongue so hard that it hurt.

She couldn't respond to that one, because most of Amelia's emotional and physical scars _were_ her fault.

On the day of the attack ten years ago, she had been out in the city by herself, finishing up a late shopping trip for her father.

The demons had come running through like a cloud of death, cutting down any and all within sight.

During the siege, the then nine-year-old Amelia had fled into an alley to get away from the carnage sweeping through their city, but she'd been cornered by a rampaging demon who had first attempted to _rape_ her, and had then started ripping her tongue out to silence her screaming.

She had been rescued by Ella's father, the Count, shortly before he'd been killed by the cat demon who'd led the horrific attack.

But as a result of all that, Amelia now had a severe speech impediment and often spoke with a subtle slur. Sometimes, when she got flustered, it even turned into a full-blown lisp.

"What has happened can never be changed," Amelia continued, shaking her head, "but we can and _do_ have control over the future. And that is why I will only say this once."

Then, with a shocking amount of force, she snatched the front of Ella's dress and dragged her close.

"If you continue hurting Phil, in any manner," she warned in a threatening tone, "you will answer to my fire, Ellameira. So fix your mistakes."

With that, she shoved her back a step and pointedly walked away without another word, leaving the albino standing in shock.

Far away, she could still hear Xaphile singing sadly.


End file.
